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Mrs. Bob 


A NOVEL 

BY 

THE AUTHOR OF DR. JACK 


NEW YORK 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers 

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Bertha M. Clay’s Novels 


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Another Woman’s Husband. 
Fair, but Faithless 
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Violet Lisle. 

Between Two Hearts. 

Twixt Love and Hate. 
Beyond Fardon 
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Put Asunder. 

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Lnd(M‘ a Shadow. 

Tii(' Earl's Atoneim nt. 
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Claribel s Love Story. 

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From Out the Gloom. 

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AVhich Loved Him Best ? 

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STRFET & SMITH, New York. 



MRS. BOB. 


By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE, 


POPULAR NOVELS 

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MRS. BOB 


A mVEL 



ST. GEORGE RATH BORNE 

\\ 

AUTHOR OF DR. JACK, ETC. 

0 



STREET & SMITH, Publishers 
29 Rose Street 


Copyrighted, 

3896 , 

By Street & Smith. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK ONE. 

A LODGE IN THE WILDEKNESS. 

CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. — The Old Story Eeversed 7 

II.— “I Wonder If You Are That Man.” 17 

III. — Hawk’s Nest 27 

IV. — The Virginian Hoodwinked 36 

V.— The Girl Who Dared 44 

VI. — Told Under the Moon 64 

VII. — Bob Pemberton in the Wrong Room 62 

VIII. — On the Road to Denver 72 


BOOK TWO. 

IN THE WHIRL AT DENVER. 

IX. — The Man Who Wore the White Primrose 78 

X. — Monsieur Merle, the Wizard 88 

XI. — What the Doctor Knew 97 

XII. — Now It is Bob, the Magician 105 

XIII. — Senator John’s Secret 114 

XIV. — Enter Mrs. Bob 121 

XV. — The Flight of the East-bound Express 128 

XVI. — Joe Hooker in the Arena 136 


BOOK THREE. 

FOLLOWING DESTINY TO NEW YORK. 

XVII. — Advice — At One Dollar a Minute 144 

XVIII.— A Fight With Fortune 152 

XIX.— ’I’he Walking was Good 170 

XX. — Stopped on the Virginia Mountains 176 

XXI. — The Ghost Walks at Gordon Manor 183 

XXII.— The Face at the Window 191 

XXIII.— Heard at the Fifth Avenue 199 

XXIV. — Adventures of One Night 207 


BOOK FOUR. 

THE WIDOW OF THE ALHAMBRA FLATS. 

XXV. — The Mysterious Tenant of the Alhambra Flats... 215 

XXVI. — Bob Finds a Father-in-law 223 

XXVII. — Looking Backward 229 

XXVIII.— Craig Has It All Arranged 236 

XXIX.— So Has That Schemer. Monsieur Merle 242 

XXX. — It is an Open Question — Which Will Win? 248 

XXXI. — Now Monsieur Smiles — But 256 

XXXII. — He Laughs Loudest Who Laughs Last 263 










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MRS. BOB. 


BOOK ONE. 

A Lodge in the Wilderness, 


CHAPTER I. 

THE OED STORY REVERSED. 

‘‘That settles it — I’m lost!” 

The speaker sits down upon the stump of a fallen 
tree and proceeds to light a cigar. His manner does 
not betray any great emotion — perhaps he fails to 
fully comprehend just what it means to be lost in 
these wild western woods, or it may be he never 
allows himself to get excited over anything, for a man 
who has spent several years in the stock exchange of 
Wall street, with some hundreds of fellow men ap- 
parently insane for the time being around him, can 
afford to look with contempt upon the small things 
of life, that arise to bewilder one. 

“Eet me see,” he says, calmly, puffing away in a 
thoughtful manner. “Senator John and I quarreled 
over the road — each was determined, so we tempo- 
rarily separated. I wonder where he finds himself just 
now. Good joke on me — I passed this very stump an 


8 


THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 


hour ago — even then I thought it had a familiar look 
and marked it. When I saw that paper fluttering in 
the breeze 1 felt like shouting at sight of an old 
friend. Lost — you couldn’t lose me in this place — 
give me an hour and I’ll bring up at this spot every 
time. The great question with me is how shall I leave 
the woods?” 

The man has laid his gun against a tree some ten 
feet away — his action declares that he can hardly be 
an old campaigner in this section. 

His appearance stamps him an amateur sportsman 
— all his accoutrements are new and stiff, and while 
they give him the look of a mighty Nimrod, it would 
only require some old native with a government 
musket to distance him out of sight in a match. 

Under the canvas helmet which he wears can be 
seen a face which, if not handsome, is at least reso- 
lute and good natured. 

No one ever found Bob Pemberton anything but 
genial — he can crack jokes at any fireside, and seems 
to get more humor out of the square inch than most 
people. 

Now and then, while he sits here, he chuckles. 

“Wonder what John is doing at this blessed mo- 
ment — I can imagine him floundering about up to 
his arm pits in a swamp, or, horrors! what if he were 
right, after all, and while I am wandering in this dis- 
mal wilderness, with night coming on, he is enjoying 
the society of Miss Gordon, at her forest lodge. What 

a queer notion, to have a lodge in the wilderness 

and yet I’ve an idea we’ll find her a remarkable 
young woman. 


THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 


9 


“I’ve been indulging in a dream, you know — what 
if, in wandering about here, I suddenly hear a scream 
— a cry of distress, and in a woman’s voice? You bet 
Bob Pemberton flies to the rescue like a chevalier of 
old, on wings of swiftness — bursts into a glade, and 
discovers the fair maiden on her knees, facing a 
deadly rattlesnake, or perhaps a crouching tiger. Of 
course I raise my gun — ^where is it? — oh, yes, calmly 
reposing against yonder tree — I’m the crack shot of 
the Seventh Regiment when I’m at home, and it’s a 
mere bagatelle for me to send a bullet where it will 
do the most good, and rescue the lovely maiden. 
That makes me a hero, you see — never played such 
a role before — wonder what it feels like? When I’ve 
finished this weed I’ll trot along and see if I can’t 
make headway. The prospect of spending the night 
here isn’t very pleasant, I declare.” 

Bob Pemberton stretches himself, holding his cigar 
in one hand. 

“Great Scott!” he exclaims, for the action brings 
out a deep, ominous growl. 

He immediately twists his head around to discover 
the cause of it, and finds no trouble in doing this. 
Not twelve feet away from him is the trunk of the 
fallen tree, and flattened out upon it he sees what 
appears to be a tremendous Maltese cat — the square 
head and wicked appearance of the animal tell Bob 
plainly enough that he need not go far to discover 
his first panther, since the beast has found him out, 
and is, apparently, ready to cover the distance 
between them. 

The spectacle is not a pleasant one, and poor Bob 


10 


THE OLD bTORY REVERSED, 


finds himself in a predicament, with his gun so far 
away from his hand. Every time he makes a move as 
if to secure it he is greeted with a growl, just as if 
the gray tiger-cat were warning him against the act. 

“Good Heaven! I guess I’m done for this time sure. 
Come all the way from New York — escaped the pit- 
falls set by the bears in Wall street, to be made a 
meal of by a miserable cat. Seems to me I ought to 
have a knife on my person” — a search, a groan — 
“hang the luck! I loaned it to that wretch. Senator 
John, when we cooked dinner. That settles me. How 
the demon glares at me. I’ve heard of the power of 
the human eye — here’s a chance to try it. Now for 
it!” 

It is a battle royal for a minute — Bob stares as 
though a kingdom were at stake— well, all he 
possesses in the world is. 

“I’m afraid it’s no go — the beast looks as though 
he would spring at any minute. I must make a des- 
perate effort to reach my gun. Confusion! I don’t 
believe I charged it again after bowling over the 
rabbit that made our dinner. Unlucky fates — what 
shall I do — light up another cigar?” 

This he actually proceeds to do, each movement 
being greeted with that ominous growl, for the savage 
beast, possibly, construes his action as one of defiance. 

He has just tossed his match aside when the idsa 
strikes him that if he could start a fire among the 
dead leaves he might scare the dreadful monster 
away, for all animals fear fire as Satan is supposed 
to regard holy water. 

Thinking thus, and mentally congratulating him- 


THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 


11 


self over the bright idea, he begins to brush the dead 
leaves in a heap with his feet. Perhaps the rustling 
sound further enrages the panther — at any rate, he 
no longer clings closely to the trunk of the fallen 
forest monarch, but rises in the air, describing 
a beautiful parabola in his passage toward Bob 
Pemberton. 

That worthy utters an ejaculation of alarm, and 
falls on his face to avoid the rush of the flying 
monster. 

It is then that he hears a sharp crack; with a 
heavy thud the panther comes to the earth, and Bob, 
scrambling to his feet, sees, to his amazement and 
delight, that the gray brute is kicking his last, five 
feet away. 

He looks around — some frontier hunter has cer- 
tainly done him good service, and Bob stands ready 
to overwhelm him with thanks. To his surprise, he 
sees no such party hastening forward to claim his due 
— and what small change Bob may possess. Still, 
that bullet certainly came from somewhere — he even 
eyes his own gun, resting innocently against the tree, 
and shakes his head negatively. 

“I say, old fellow, show yourself — that was a 
pretty fair shot — nothing to be ashamed of, anyhow. 
Here’s one anxious to shake hands with you — show 
up, that’s a good chap,” he calls, aloud, surveying 
the gloomy woods around, as though they might be 
peopled with hobgoblins. 

Without warning the silence is suddenly broken by 
a silvery laugh, that causes the blood to rush like hot 
lava into Bob’s face. 


12 


THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 


‘‘Jove! a girl’s laugh, by all the powers. Knight 
of chivalry, eh — going around rescuing maidens with 
that wonderful gun of yours? Seems to me things are 
slightly mixed — er — that the boot is on the other leg. 
Where the deuce is she?” 

“Ha, ha! old fellow, not a shot to be ashamed of, 
eh? Well, you see I hated-to shoot the poor brute sit- 
ting, and waited until he sprang. L/ike a true sports- 
man, I paused after firing to reload, but here I am 
and ready to receive your fervid expressions of grati- 
tude. ” 

Bob Pemberton stares. 

He might easily be pardoned for so doing, as the 
speaker steps into view and advances, for surely 
since the days of Diana no such sight has been seen 
in forest or glade. 

The girl is small in stature, finely built, and as 
handsome as a picture, with eyes black as sloes. She 
is dressed in sable velvet, and wears leather leggiiis, 
while in her hands lies the small rifle which was used 
so effectively in Bob’s behalf. 

The latter recovers himself — a man who has lived 
thirty years in New York and spent ten of it in the 
swirl of the money market, is not one to be easily 
abashed. 

“Pardon me, miss, but, naturally, I am surprised to 
see one of your sex in this wild region. All the same, 
I’m delighted to owe my life to you. Consider me 
under bond to repay the debt at the first opportunity 
— yours to command. Bob Pemberton. Pardon, again, 
but are you a chief’s daughter? You see I’m a 
stranger in these parts, a greenhorn, and I like to 


THE OLD STOnrnEVERSED, 


13 


know my ground. You will excuse this question, I 
hope?’^ 

She looks at him fixedly, as though in doubt with 
regard to his sanity, and then laughs again. 

“Why, he actually takes me for an Indian maiden 
— a second Hiawatha, a Pocohontas! Poor man, you 
evidently are out of your beaten track — you nreed a 
guardian. ’’ 

“Suppose you assume the role, seeing you have 
begun so well,’’ says the unabashed Bob. 

“Thank you, I was after game — and I found it.” 

“Perhaps of a different variety from what you 
expected,” he remarks, rather dryly, which evokes 
another burst of merriment. 

Poor Bob feels rather humiliated — his castles in 
Spain have tumbled ingloriously down. Instead of 
rescuing some maiden in distress, he has himself been 
saved from peril by the accuracy of this remarkable 
girl’s aim. 

Such a light-hearted pilgrim never remains long 
cast down, and he begins to appreciate the whole 
affair as a great joke on himself, so that by the time 
his strange companion laughs again at some ridicu- 
lous remark he makes, he is ready to join in her 
merriment. 

“Perhaps you are an angel sent, not only to deliver 
me from the claws of a tiger-cat, but to lead me out 
of the wilderness, for I humbly confess I’m lost,” he 
says. 

“You don’t belong in these parts, I see.” 

“I’m from that great and wicked city, New York.” 

“Poor man — then you are indeed far out of your 


14 


THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 


bearings — there is not a house within miles of this 
spot. ’ ’ 

“But you — must live somewhere?’’ 

“I have wandered farther away from home than 
usual. Do you think you could walk?” 

She has a poor opinion of his staying qualities — 
she never saw him spend five hours in the crowded 
Exchange, pushing, crushing, shouting like a maniac 
— a man who could go through that experience get 
tired over such a small jaunt as this — ^bah ! he is as 
fresh as ever. 

“I could walk to Paradise in your company,” he 
declares, audaciously. 

“You may yet have the opportunity,” she replies, 
very soberly. “One thing is sure, we must leave this 
place immediately.” 

“Yes, night is settling down fast. I trust you know 
the way, miss, for we have no moon.” 

“Still, we may have all the light needed,” she 
remarks, in a mysterious way. 

“I’m ready, if you are,” throwing his rifle over 
his shoulder and all the while wondering at the 
strange words she uses, which are an enigma to him. 

“Then come, and we will test your powers of 
endurance.” 

He starts off briskly at her side, and there is a 
swing to his stride that pleases the girl. Bob’s latent 
feelings have been aroused— it is bad enough for him 
to owe his life to a girl, but he is bound that he shall 
not merit her contempt. 

Thus they push through the woods, the girl lead- 


THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 


15 


ing in a manner that proves her knowledge of the 
forest. 

Darkness falls fast now, under the shelter of the 
trees, and the. dead leaves rustle in the rising wind, 
for the early frosts have long since nipped the forest 
foliage. 

As they advance along their way. Bob notices that 
his companion acts uneasily — several times she stops, 
and he begins to imagine she, too, has lost her way, 
until he notices that she seems to listen on each 
occasion. 

It is not Bob’s nature to remain long quiet — he is 
too accustomed to the racket and roar of human 
voices not to make some noise himself on occasion^ 
and presently he seeks to draw the young girl into 
conversation. 

His first venture is hardly a success, for, after 
answering his question, she lapses into silence again. 

‘‘Have you ever heard the ocean beating upon the 
shore?” he persists. 

“Never,” she replies, once more coming to a halt, 
and apparently puzzling over the direction they 
should take. “What makes you ask such a strange 
question?” 

“Well, you see, the wind is rising fast, and makes 
such a noise ahead of us that it reminded me of the 
breakers. And I declare, we’re going to have some 
moonlight, after all — I had an idea that it didn’t rise 
until much later.” 

The girl turns upon him with something like 
contempt in her manner. 

“What you hear is, in truth, the wind, and it is 


16 


THE OLD UTOBY liEVERSED. 


driving a sea before it — a sea that, I am afraid, 
threatens to ingulf us — a sea that will roar and 
crackle over this spot on which we are now standing 
inside of twenty minutes!” 

Bob is startled by her impressive manner. 

‘‘What under Heaven do you mean?” he asks, not 
a glimmer of the truth as yet appearing to him. 

“Simply this — the forest is on fire and a tornado 
of flames threatens to cut off our escape!” is her 
steady response. 


I WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN." 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN.*’ 

He no longer gropes in the dark, for her words, 
though spoken so quietly, have let a flood of light 
in upon his mind. Though he has never seen a forest 
fire, he can comprehend what it means, from descrip- 
tions read at various times. 

“Now that you speak of it, I can detect a strong 
odor of burning pine in the air.” 

“Smart — go up ahead — so many were able to dis- 
cover America after Columbus did — such an easy 
matter, just sailing to the west. But our danger is 
real — if we make a mistake and go the wrong way 
we shall be burned to a crisp. ’ * 

“That’s pleasant,” he remarks, with a shrug. 

“You do not seem alarmed.” 

“Well, I may be green in the ways of the woods, 
but I believe I have never been called a coward. I 
have heard much of the horror attending one of these 
conflagrations, so it is not ignorance that prompts my 
actions. I am quite willing to do anything you think 
best. ” 

“Well, I like that. It shows you have some sense 
in your head. Bob Pemberton, as I believe you called 
yourself. You are quite right — we have no time to 
lose if we would escape with our lives. I have tried 
to locate the fire so that we might reach its farther 


18 


“/ WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN: 


limit, and I believe our course is this way. Come!’* 
Now that the danger is apparent, and Bob knows 
what he has to face, he shows considerable energy. 
They increase their pace to a run whenever the nature 
of the woods will permit. 

The darkness has had little chance to settle down 
before it is dispelled by the rapidly increasing glow 
of the fire. Even the heavens show the reflection — 
low clouds erstwhile so fleecy becoming an angry hue, 
while a pillar of black smoke ascends at several points 
where the fire rages most furiously. 

Still they press on. 

Bob notices that his companion begins to lag — she 
has tramped far and wide during the day, and was 
already wearied when she met him. Her spirit is 
willing, but overtaxed nature rebels. 

Meanwhile the air has grown insufferably hot, while 
the smoke inflames their eyes. Cinders, blown in 
advance by the strong wind, shower around them, 
and in more than one place an incipient conflagra- 
tion is started where the dead leaves are banked up 
against old logs. 

The roaring sound has also increased, until it has 
become horribly suggestive of the high carnival being 
held among the forest trees by the king of fire- 
demons. To be heard now one must raise the voice 
to a shout. 

It is a scene that Bob Pemberton will never forget, 
providing he is fortunate enough to live through the 
experience ; openings in the woods to the left allow 
a glimpse to be had of the fiery spectacle, and it is 
certainly awe-inspiring. 


I WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAH’* 


19 


They are advancing in the right direction, but it is 
a question whether they will be able to get far enough 
to distance the broad line marked by the billows of 
flame that leap from tree to tree, and reduce the once 
proud forest to a miserable ruin, with skeleton stumps 
smoking and smoldering in its track. 

The man has meekly followed up to this time, but 
now he steps into the lead. He notices, with deep 
concern, that the girl no longer runs with the swift- 
ness of a fawn — she is tired. As she looks up at him 
she tries to smile cheerily while saying, in little gasps : 

“Don’t you think that we are making it — that our 
chances of escape are good 

Now, Bob, aroused to the occasion, can easily see 
that the line of fire stretches some distance beyond, 
and advances rapidly — he also knows that even by 
changing their course so as to flee more directly from 
it, they will not be able to escape if their progress 
does not increase. 

“I fear that you deceive yourself — that you are also 
utterly worn out — you must let me help you.” 

He takes hold of her arm without as much as “by 
your leave,” and thus assists her. For a short time 
a visible difference in their progress is the result, but 
the girl suddenly comes to a halt and looks at him 
fixedly. 

“It is no use,” she says, as loud as her spent breath 
will allow, “I can go no farther.” 

“But you must,” he declares, casting a look over 
his shoulder at the advancing line of roaring fire that 
already burns his face. 


20 


I WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN 


‘‘It is impossible — I could not run — you must saye 
yourself, Bob Pemberton.’’ 

“And leave you here to burn — may I be flayed 
alive if I do! We are companions in trouble, and, 
sink or swim, we go together. Are you sure you can’t 
walk?” 

“Not another step.” 

“Then there is only one thing to be done, ” he says, 
resolutely. 

With a fling, he sends his gun from him. 

“What would you do?” she cries. 

“Carry you,” he replies. 

“You are mad — there is yet a chance to save your- 
self — run while it lasts!” 

“Never! Say no more — I believe I can save both 
our lives — you shall see how strong I am.” 

Almost before she knows it, the girl is snatched 
up in his powerful arms. 

“Clasp my neck — it makes my task easier.” 

She obeys like a little child — in this dreadful time, 
with death in a terrible shape so near them, these 
two — ^strangers an hour since — seem drawn together 
by some mysterious bond. 

Fate has welded the chains that clasp them. 

So Bob Pemberton rushes forward — he is like a 
madman, and endowed with strength that is almost 
superhuman. Not only his own life is in peril, but 
that of another, and he feels that the chance has 
come to redeem his reputation — to carry out the work 
of chivalry. 

The avalanche roaring down the side of Mont 


WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MANr 2i 

Blanc could not create a greater furor than does this 
whirlwind of fire on their left. 

Bob pays strict attention to business — he knows 
that if Heaven is kind and allows them to live 
through this fearful night, it must be on account of 
the heroic efforts he puts forth — that his strength is 
the only barrier that lies between them and destruc- 
tion. 

More than once he stumbles, but recovers immedi- 
ately — on, he rushes, as though the weight in his 
arms were almost nothing. 

Doubtless the girl who surveyed him with such 
disdain after saving his life has reason to alter her 
opinion now — it is at least an experience she will 
never forget, even though others still more singular 
fall to their common lot in days to come. 

Fortune favors the brave. When it looks as though 
the end is near, and they are about to be overwhelmed 
b}' the flood of flame, now reaching its high tide. Bob 
gives vent to what is meant for a shout of exultation, 
but as the poor fellow is fairly gasping for breath, on 
account of his tremendous exertion, it is hardly more 
than a gurgle. 

As her head is so close to his curly one, she catches 
the expression of his cry and knows he has some 
reason for rejoicing. 

He tries to increase his speed — it is the last lap on 
the race course — the stake is human life, and, they 
are on the homestretch — close at their side pursues 
death on a white horse. 

This remarkable and gallant spurt on his part is all 
that saves them — ^his strength holds out until they 


22 


“ i WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN.' 


issue from the forest and reach a great clearing, 
around which the fire does not seem to be pushing. 

Poor Bob staggers out upon this as far as he can 
— his shaking knees almost knock together from 
weakness. 

“Let me down — I can walk now, Bob Pemberton. 
You are nearly dying!” cries the girl, struggling to 
release herself from his frenzied grasp. 

He opens his arms, and she alights on her feet like 
a young deer. Bob is pretty nearly gone, but the spirit 
within him is far from succumbing — he endeavors to 
walk on, finds his limbs palsied, as it were, from 
the severe strain put upon them — sinks on his knees. 

“You have killed yourself — for me !” cries the girl, 
in great distress. 

Even the roaring flames, the trees falling as though 
they were pipe-stems, the avalanche of fire advancing 
near by, seem to hold no terror while this new source 
of alarm appears before her. 

“I am worn out — that is all. I will lie down here 
— the heat may not be so great. But you must con- 
tinue across the savannah !” he shouts, his voice still 
holding good. 

“And leave you — never! Even here the heat will 
sear your brain — you must get farther away, even if 
you roll or crawl. ” 

Her words, her anxiety, give him new hope, and 
new energy. He even bends his powerful will toward 
increasing the distance between the fire and them- 
selves. 

It is a supreme effort, and only comes from the 
thought that she means to share his danger. He would 


“/ WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN." 23 

be unable to walk only for the assistance she gives, 
putting an arm around him. In this moment of peril, 
when life and death hang in the balance, all prudish 
thoughts are put aside — he risked everything for her 
— why should she hesitate to do what little is now 
possible for him ? 

Thus they move along, foot by foot — each yard 
passed over takes them farther from the fierce heat of 
the burning forest, and their parched faces begin to 
catch the first breath of cool air coming from a new 
quarter. 

How bracing it is, how refreshing. Even Bob, 
utterly worn out as he is, seems to drink in a new 
lease of life with each draught, and is able to continue 
his shambling with more vigor. 

“That change of wind saved us,” he says, aloud, 
for the din of the great conflagration still makes 
conversation a difficulty. 

“I have my own ideas about that,” she replies, 
with meaning in her voice. 

“We are far enough away — let us rest here a short 
time. Then, perhaps, I shall be able to walk. Oh, I 
surely will be.” 

“See, yonder, is a brook — what relief its waters 
will be to our parched throats. A little farther. Bob 
Pemberton, and we will halt.” 

He advances with new energy, and takes out a little 
folding drinking cup from his pocket. 

Bending over the gurgling stream he finds the 
water cool and clear — evidently it comes from a 
place where the fire has not raged. 


24 


I WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN.' 


Another moment and he is offering her the cup it 
his trembling hand. 

“You first,” she says. 

“No, no, lam a gentleman,” he replies, resolutely 

Then she accepts the grateful draught, and soon 
fills the cup for him. 

Fate did a very queer thing when it brought these 
two together under such peculiar conditions. 

By degrees Bob’s strength comes back to him, 
though he will on the following day feel his exertions 
severely. 

They sit there and watch the wonderful spectacle 
of a blazing forest, that stretches for a mile, at least, 
to the north. 

It is rendered all the more realistic to them because 
they have so recently escaped from the angry abyss 
of flames, and a feeling of deep thankfulness rests 
upon each heart as they reflect upon what might have 
been. 

“I feel recuperated, and it would be well for us to 
be moving since there can be no telling when the 
wind may shift again, and the fire surround us.” 

Bob is a good general, and has more than once led 
the bull forces of the stock exchange in a raid upon 
the bears. He can see ahead and anticipate many 
coming possibilities. 

So, arm-in-arm for support, they walk on. 

The girl assumes the leadership, and from her man- 
ner it is evident that she knows just where they are 
and whither they are heading. 

As they leave the burning forest farther in the fear 
the darkness increases; but having come upon what 


“1 WOyDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN/' 25 

appears to be a valley road, they follow along it and 
have little trouble. 

“Do you know you haven’t told me your name 
yet?” remarks Bob, at length, after they have spoken 
about various subjects. 

She laughs at this — a merry, ringing laugh, the 
first she has given utterance to since the terrible 
danger bore down upon them. 

“Was I guilty of such a gross breach of etiquette? 
Really, you must forgive me. To my friends I am 
known simply as Gypsy.” 

“A singular name, and yet quite appropriate, I 
must confess. Do you live in this heathen wilder- 
ness, may I ask?” 

“Oh, yes!” 

“Then, perhaps, you can direct me. I have found 
no one in the day’s journey who could give me even 
a pointer. My companion and myself disagreed at a 
point where the road forked, and concluded to sepa- 
rate. I am inclined to believe he was right, after all, 
since I got into a muddle; but don’t think that I 
regret it, since it was the cause of making me^ 
acquainted with one whom I might otherwise never 
have met. ” 

“That was well put, Mr. Bob Pemberton. Now, if 
you’ll be so kind as to tell me what brings a gentle- 
man to this wild region from a point so far away as 
New York, perhaps I may be able to direct you.” 

“I’m looking for a place called Hawk’s Nest.” 

“Oh !” with a start. 

“The property — the hunting lodge, or some such 


26 


/ WONDER IF YOU ARE THAT MAN' 


place, of an eccentric lady known as Miss Estelle 
Gordon. ” 

“Why, that must be auntie!” 

“Eh? Do you mean to say you live at the place 
known as Hawk’s Nest?” 

“Certainly — I am a niece of Miss Estelle Gordon, 
and you have come all the way from New York ” 

“To see the lady — yes. What a singular fate, what 
a blessed fate, let me add, that threw me in the way 
of her niece.” 

“All the way from New York,” the girl repeats. 
“I wonder if you are that man.” 


HAWK'S NEST. 


27 


CHAPTER III. 
hawk’s nest. 

The singular being who has called herself Gypsy 
Gordon apparently desires to confine the conversation 
to a sphere of her own selection, foi she at once 
makes mention of the fire and what a great fright her 
aunt will be in. Bob remembers those peculiar words 
and finds time, later on, to ponder over them. 

“How far away would you think the house is?” he 
asks, as he laboriously trudges along. 

“I am sorry to say nearly a mile. How would it do 
for you to rest here while I go on — then help could 
be sent back for you ?” 

“But you — you would have to go alone in the 
intense darkness.” 

“Ah! you forget. Gypsy Gordon is well able to 
take care of herself,” cheerily. 

“So I did — pardon me. But, unless my ears deceive 
me, I hear a singular noise ahead, a pounding that 
makes me fear the fire may have whipped around 
and headed us off.” 

She listens, and utters a cry, but it is of joy. 

“They are coming!” 

“Who is that?” demands Bob. 

“Some of those from Hawk’s Nest — mounted on 
horses, too. See, you can catch a glimpse of the lan- 
terns through the trees. They look like giant fireflies 
rushing along.” 


28 


HAWK'S NEST, 


Bob sees them, but his thoughts are more pratic- 
cal, and he rejoices at the idea of assistance being 
near at hand The group of riders carrying the will- 
o’-the-wisp lights dash around a bend in the valley 
road. In another moment they threaten to ride over 
the two, when the girl, seizing a hunting horn she 
carries at her side, gives a silvery blast that rings out 
sharp and clear on the night air. 

Immediately there is a drawing in of horses in hot 
haste. 

“Gypsy, is it you?” calls a woman’s voice, shrill 
with apparent tense excitement. 

“Yes, auntie, safe and sound.” 

“Thank Heaven! Child, we feared the worst when 
Ichabod came in reporting a terrible fire to the north, 
and darkness drew on without a sign of you. I could 
restrain my anxiety no longer, but, ordering out all 
the horses in the stable, mounted our guests and ser- 
vants and made up this search and relief party.” 

“I must be a second Sir John Franklin, then, only, 
instead of being lost in the ice, it is fire this time. I 
trust you have two spare horses, auntie.” 

“Two — why, you have a companion — a man.” 

“Yes, a gentleman who saved my life — but for him 
I should even now be in that blazing forest.” 

“I beg pardon,” begins Bob, when someone cries: 

“Bless my stars, it’s Bob.” 

“Ah ! are you there. Senator John? I give in before 
you say a word — you win the wager, but don’t be- 
lieve I envy you. Fate had other things in store for 
me.” 

“He is almost dead from fatigue — he actually ran 


HAWK'S NEST. 


29 


a mile through that blazing woods, carrying me — 
just fancy. Some one give him a horse.’’ 

A servant leaps to the ground. 

“He is welcome to my mount, Miss Gypsy,” says 
a smooth voice, a polished, even voice that marks 
the possessor a man of education and refinement — 
something in it would readily betray to a shrewd 
observer that the speaker is a Southern man — a 
Virginian. 

But Pemberton starts at the sound and looks keenly 
up at the speaker. 

“Ah ! Mr. Guy Livingstone here. This is an unex- 
pected pleasure — I anticipated seeing you in time, 
but did not dream you would outstrip me in the race. ” 

“My dear fellow,” says the other, with a light 
laugh, as he flips the ashes from his cigar with his 
little finger, “remember the old saying, ‘the race is 
not always to the swift’ ” 

“Begar! hear ze words of wisdom — I am positif 
zat it sail be so wif us. Mr. Bob, I salute you!” 

“Monsieur Merle here, too,” mutters the man from 
New York, as though staggered. 

The light of the several lanterns reveals the four 
persons who serve to form such a strange company, 
“and this is what Bob sees as he glances from one to 
another : 

There is Miss Gordon, a prim spinster, with a 
severe face and strait-laced person, whose counte- 
nance, however, may not be an index to her hidden 
heart. 

Then comes Senator John, the oddest, best-natured 
crank of a pilgrim who ever trotted around the globe 


30 


HAWK'S NEST. 


seeking new sights — as man who smokes a Persian 
chihoque when at home, wears a Turkish fez, who 
has a memento of every people under the sun, and 
who believes in Bob Pemberton through thick and 
thin, as a boy after his own heart 

Then comes Guy Livingstone — handsome, grace- 
ful, polished — a cool customer, an unscrupulous 
enemy, and a man to be handled at all times with 
gloves. 

Last, but not least Monsieur Merle, the Franco- 
American man of law, a dried up specimen who might 
pass for an Egyptian mummy in the hands of a Bar- 
num, and yet who poses as a Beau Brummel, strange 
to say, wearing the most amazing cravats, his hobby, 
and a man who never knows in the bright lexicon of 
legal phraseology such a word as fail — who has sought 
Miss Gordon far and wide— 3/br a purpose. 

A singular collection, truly, when Bob’s own 
angular figure, and the velvet-clad form of the 
vivacious gypsy are added. 

By this time Pemberton is mounted — at least, thank 
Heaven he is a horseman, owing to his Kentucky 
birth. 

Gypsy bounds upon the back of a sable steed with 
the ease of an independent soul — the horse whinnies 
a welcome, showing that it must be her own prop- 
erty. 

“We are ready, gentlemen — let us head for Hawk’s 
Nest,” she exclaims. 

Riding by the side of Senator John, she leans over 
and says: 

“You would do well to keep alongside your friend 


HAWK'S NEST. 


81 


— lie has undergone a terrible strain and may faint 
in the saddle, which I must say he sits well.” 

“Oh! Bob’s from Old Kaintuck — but what you 
say is well put — I’ll keep close by him — he’s too good 
a fellow to neglect, miss.” 

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” is all she replies, 
but during the ride back to the lodge in the forest 
Senator John notices that Gypsy guards Bob on the 
left even as he does on the right. 

lyittle is said cn the way, but considerable thinking 
is doubtless done, for the elements brought together 
in this hour of danger constitute what promises to be 
one of the most peculiar dramas ever played in real 
life — a drama where the forces of human intrigue 
are arrayed against each other for the possession of 
a prize. Now lights are seen ahead. 

“We are there!” exclaims the singular girl for the 
benefit of the one she fears must be sorely tried. 

They draw rein. 

The so-called forest lodge appears to be quite an 
extensive array of buildings; being perched upon a 
rock, it has received the name by which it is known 
through the country round about. 

A hawk’s nest inhabited by two doves — strange 
anomaly indeed. 

Here are lights and comfort — behind lies the dark 
forest, and far away the glow of the receding 
conflagration. 

They dismount and servants take the horses away 
to the stables. Bob Pemberton wearied as he is looks 
around in wonder at the astonishing sight. Every- 
thing is perfection — an abundance of money and the 


32 


HAWK' 8 NEST. 


taste of a woman back of it have built up an Eden 
here in the wilderness. 

Entering the house they find themselves just in 
time for dinner; in a large room, the walls of which 
are adorned with pieces of ancient armor, relics of the 
chase, and paintings, a long table is set. 

‘•Bring your friend and come,’’ says Gypsy to Bob, 
and he feels that they are under the girl’s protecting 
care. 

He has looked at the aunt several times in a puz- 
zled way as though there are some things he cannot 
comprehend ; but when thus addressed, he slips his 
arm though that of Senator John and willingly 
follows such a fair guide. 

“Make yourselves as comfortable as you can in 
here, and come to the table as soon as you are ready. 
Remember, you are welcome at Hawk’s Nest.” 

So saying, she leaves them. 

Bob turns upon the other eagerly. 

“What can you make of her, John — she is an enigma 
to me, young, charming, yet a child in many of her 
ways. Her aunt must have brought her up away 
from the world — she certainly does not know a great 
deal of its conventionalities. As to Miss Estelle, she 
makes me feel anxious about the success of our 
expedition. ” 

“Great Jupiter!” exclaims the other, “is it possible 
the man doesn’t know?” 

“What?” 

“You talk as if the aunt were the party with whom 
our mission deals.” 

“Is there anything odd about that?” 


HAWK'S NEST. 


3 ^ 


“Why, she’s only a supernumerary about here, a 
surplus piece of furniture, as it were, useful for cer- 
tain purposes, but not a matter of great importance — 
a sort of chaperon, as it were.” 

“Then the real Miss Gordon, the wonderful crea- 
ture who is back of this paradise in the forest with 
whom we are to deal — have you seen here?” 

“Well, hear the innocent question! You have had 
the lady to yourself two hours or more, saved her 
life, and no doubt won her everlasting gratitude.” 

Bob springs almost out of his chair. 

“John Archer, do you mean to tell me that will- 
o’-the-wisp, that Diana of the forest, that remarkable 
girl with whom I fought for life against the flames, 
is Estelle Gordon, the person whom we have come 
thousands of miles to meet?” 

“I do,” solemnly replies the diplomat. 

“How do you know it?” suspiciously. 

“By a dozen different signs. To begin with, her 
aunt told me so — then Livingstone has spoken of 
her — you know why he is here.” 

“I can guess it, John, and the other, too.” 

“You mean Monsieur Merle — well, he’s a lawyer 
and scents a big fat fee ahead — ^he has the faculty of 
discovering such things, even as a buzzard can detect 
the presence of carrion. I tell you, my dear Bob, 
we’ve got a tremendous job before us, but, thank 
goodness, your adventure gives us the inside track.” 

“Oh, you think so, eh? Well, let’s get ready to go 
to the table. I confess I’m famished, and a good 
meal will do wonders toward restoring me. We’ll 
talk over this singular matter at our leisure.” 


34 


HAWK'S NEST, 


Following Bob’s advice, they soon move in the 
direction of the dining-hall, where the others have 
preceded them. 

The conversation is general, and of course the for- 
est fire comes in for a share of it, but neither of the 
actors in that little drama volunteer to describe their 
adventure. Bob can see the Virginian looking at him 
with a peculiar gleam in his eye, and, secretly, the 
man from New York chuckles at the thought that 
circumstances have allowed him to give the other 
some uneasiness. 

The spinster acts the part of hostess, though one 
can easily see how anxious she is to see that her niece 
shall be pleased in everything. 

Although the meal is rather formal, because there 
are so many elements present that refuse to blend, it 
is finished at length — they adjourn to another room 
which looks out upon a stretch of open land — 
beyond lies a piazza upon which the gentlemen can 
walk up and down while enjoying their cigars. 

Bob Pemberton does not avail himself of the priv- 
ilege — ^he feels a thousand per cent, better since 
dining, and can even think of the business that has 
drawn him from Gotham to a point in the mountains 
far beyond Denver. 

He glances around him — Senator John has occupied 
the attention of the spinster — the coast seems clear. 
Bob looks into the face of Gypsy Gordon. 

“I want to speak to you in private — I have just 
learned that you are Miss Gordon — it is of the utmost 
importance that we should not appear to be talking 
confidentially. Manage it with the same dexterity 


HAWK'S NEST. 


35 


you showed in bowling over my panther,” he says, 
laughing. 

“I do not understand what it means, but you can 
trust me,” she replies. “There are some photographs 
of hunting scenes over upon that table in the alcove 
— perhaps you would like to look at them — unless 
you’ve had enough hunting for the present.” 

“This day’s experience will always remain in my 
memory, but I am not easily discouraged. I will look 
at the pictures,” and he follows her across the apart- 
ment. 

Through the window the Virginian eyes them while 
he smokes his Havana and chats with Monsieur Merle, 
the acute French lawyer, but, as yet, he sees no cause 
for action. 

“Now tell me what it all means— why do four men 
who appear so antagonistic, come to Hawk’s Nest at 
about the same time?” 

“Can you give no guess?” he asks, holding up a 
picture to the light as though deeply interested in 
the stirring scene represented. 

“How should I unless ” and she looks at him 

with a sudden startled glance. 

“I beg you to be calm. I feel that Tivingstone is 
watching us. When you are your own brave self I 
shall be ready to tell my news.” 

“Go on — I have steeled my nerves.” 

“Steady now — your grandfather, Rudolph Gordon, 
is dead — your past life has been free from care — now 
trouble and dangers menace you.” 

“I understand at last — Heaven guard me.” 


36 


THE VIRGINIAN llOODWINKEl). 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE VIRGINIAN HOODWINKED. 

The girl remains wonderfully calm under such cir- 
cumstances ; but it is what Bob has really expected, 
after seeing her actions during that trying period 
when the eager flames rolled after them in the woods. 

Though full of anxiety, she has the strength to 
hold up a picture representing some comical hunting 
scene, and her merry laugh rings through the room. 

“You have a story to tell me, Bob Pemberton?'’ 

“Yes, but not now, not here. Oh! if I had but 
known Gypsy Gordon was the party I came to find 
what an opportunity I had to relate the singular 
adventure that befell me not long since, a recital 
closely connected with the fate of that strange old 
man you called grandfather.” 

“Then we must find the opportunity, for hear it 
I shall. Yes, your news has opened my eyes in more 
than one respect — I can give a Yankee guess why 
Cousin Guy is here.” 

“To forestall the coming of the news — to look out 
for his share of the legacy.” 

“And this queer old Frenchman who makes so 
many faces and wears such gaudy cravats, strutting 
up and down like a turkey cock — what has he to do 
with it all?” 

“Monsieur Merle is a lawyer — he is on the track 


THE VIRQINIAN HOODWINKED. 37 

of big game. I believe he had something to do with 
your grandfather’s enormous estate — at least, it 
seems that as soon as the news of the old gentleman’s 
death was made public, this man of law starts out to 
discover Miss Estelle Gordon, with some deep pur- 
pose of his own. Some singular fate brings us all 
here together — funny, isn’t it? — laugh again, for I 
see him looking through the window as if he 
suspects us. ’ ’ 

She does laugh. 

“Leave it to me — I will find an opportunity very 
soon,” and just then the Virginian saunters into the 
room, having thrown away his half-consumed cigar. 

It is evident that he means to keep in the field him- 
self, and not leave it to another, but when he enters 
the lists against Gypsy Gordon he undertakes more 
than he can master. 

Trust a girl for managing, men, even one who has 
apparently never mixed with society. She knows by 
instinct how to manipulate matters, so as to accom- 
plish all she sets out to perform. 

In a short time she has managed it so that the 
Virginian is drawn into a game of cards, with her 
aunt, the lawyer and Senator Jones for company. 

Guy Livingstone would not have joined the game, 
only he believed that Gypsy was to be his partner in 
it, and once in he cannot very well get out again. 

This leaves the coast clear. 

Bob Pemberton is sitting in the bay window admir- 
ing some sketches he found in a portfolio. He can 
give a shrewd guess as to the artist, and is both 
amazed and delighted at the boldness of their execu- 


38 


TEE VIRGIEIAN HOODWINKED. 


tion, for once upon a time Bob came very near fol- 
lowing that profession as a Mvelihood, being peculiarly 
adapted to it. Circumstances threw him in the way 
of entering Wall street, and thus his course of life 
was changed, though at odd times since he has done 
a little sketching. 

Gypsy has vanished — she is waiting until the party 
become interested in their game, and then she 
appears at Bob’s side. 

“You audacious man — who gave you permission 
to look at my work?” 

“I beg pardon — have I done wrong? — but I am de- 
cidedly interested. You have a free touch and the 
true conception of an artist. ” 

Then he proceeds to praise and criticise in a 
manner that astonishes and delights her. 

“You are an artist?” she cries. 

“Yes, in the Stock Exchange — I am a Wall street 
operator, and do you know the idea has more than 
once occurred to me that I made a great mistake in 
choosing my profession — in other words that a good 
artist was spoiled to make a poor financier. ” 

“I shall be indeed glad to have you give me some 
ideas — I am very much engrossed with the work — 
but not now. There is something more important to 
be looked into. I have made the opportunity you 
desired — now tell me about your adventure — how 
you came to know of the grandfather — of Gypsy 
Gordon.” 

He glances around, and for the first time notices 
what a delightful little party has gathered at the 


THE VIRGINIAN HOODWINKED. 


39 


other end of the room — glances up just in time to 
see Livingstone look that way and frown. 

“Did you do that? I give you credit for being a 
good general. What a game they will play. Bach 
side of this case is well represented there.” 

“But tell me about Rudolph Gordon — you know 
how deeply I am interested.” 

“I do, indeed. It is a queer story in one sense, 
and shows how the lives of some people run together, 
drawn by an invisible force, just as drops of quick- 
silver upon a smooth surface will move toward each 
other. ’ ’ 

His expression had more meaning in it than his 
words, and the girl, looking back at the strange 
Mianner of their coming together, realizes the truth 
of what he says. 

“Go on.” 

“Being utterly worn out by my work, a couple of 
weeks ago I resolved to take a holiday. Chance, and 
the invitation of Tom Baxter, took me to Virginia. 
This old friend of mine had married and settled 
down on a farm in the richest part of the State, and 
he lured me there with glowing accounts of quail 
shooting, of which sport I used to be very fond. 

“I decided to go, and turned up at Tom’s house 
one evening, to his delight, and the consternation of 
his little wife, who feared her culinary department 
might not be in exact order for the advent of a New 
Yorker, which notion must have been knocked out 
of her head when she saw the ferocious assault I 
made upon the supper, at which we were soon seated. 

“Let me avoid unnecessary details and get down to 


40 


THE VIRGINIAN HOODWINKED. 


business as .soon as possible. I put a day in with the 
quail, lost my way, and at dark turned up at a grand 
old mansion which I knew must be the Gordon 
manor.” 

The girl listens eagerly. 

“It was with the intention of asking my way that 
I entered the grounds and advanced toward the build- 
ing, for I had no desire to spend the night in the woods. 

“The house was dark, save in one quarter, where I 
could see the gleam of a lamp, shining through a 
window. 

“Tom had told me something of the strange man 
who lived there, and I was prepared for some sort of 
experience in the event of my running across him. 

“When midway between the house and the long 
range of stables, I heard some one running and mut- 
tering to himself. Another moment and a negro came 
banging up against me. 

“ ‘Hello!’ I said. ‘What’s up?’ 

“The fellow’s knees began to knock together, he 
was that badly scared, but seeing I was a white man, 
he suddenly changed his tune and besought me to 
follow him into the house, declaring he had just been 
about to get a horse and ride for a neighbor. 

“From what he said I imagined old Squire Gordon 
must be dying. He had lived here a strange life, 
with no companions, and only his faithful servants, 
some of them former slaves, around him, but at the 
approach of the grim monster. Death, a sudden 
desire to see and talk with some one of his own race 
had come upon him. 

“I followed the darkey into the house, and in a 


THE VIRGINIAN HOODWINKED. 41 

few minutes was ushered into the room where I first 
saw your grandfather, the eccentric millionaire, and 
owner of Gordon manor. 

“I needn^t tell you how I was impressed, for 
every one whoever came in contact with the old 
gentleman must have been struck that way. 

“He was in bed, bolstered up, and looked like a 
very sick man, though there was no doctor present. 

“At sight of me he sat up and called out: 

“ ‘Well, sir, who are you?’ 

“I explained how I happened to be near by when 
his man was starting for a white man, and that he 
had brought me in. 

“The old gentleman was eying me closely from 
under his bushy brows all the while, and when I 
finished he burst out with : 

“ ‘You will do — I believe Heaven must have sent 
you to me in this hour. Draw up a chair. I have 
much to say to you. What is your name?’ 

“I told him, and begged that I might go for some 
of his neighbors or friends, at which he burst into a 
fierce laugh. 

“ ‘Friends — Squire Gordon has none save the old 
school-teacher, and for whom Octavius was going 
when he met you. Friends— I distrust them all — 
they think of my money only — I knew no peace until 
I got rid of all but honest black friends and servants 
— and only precious little then. Sit down and listen, 
while I tell you strange things, you whom Heaven 
has sent here in this hour, which may be my last.’ 

“I could not refuse — besides, I confess, something 
like curiosity urged me to remain. 


42 


THE VnWliHAN HOODWINKED. 


“He began to speak rapidly; every little while he 
would make an imperious motion with his hand, and 
I would give him a taste of the contents of a glass, 
which seemed to renew his strength. 

“Miss Gordon, there is probably no reason why I 
should repeat what he said to me — you know the 
story of your home in all its weirdness, and I must 
confess it aroused more interest with me than any 
novel I had ever read.” 

“There is no necessity — I know all. Go on and 
tell me what you did,” she says, quietly, but with 
intense eagerness. 

“When he had finished he asked me point blank if 
I would search for his grandchild, and place a packet 
in her hand — a packet of great value to her, and 
which he would be loath to give into the possession 
of most people, but which he believed he could trust 
with me. 

“I was flattered by his words, and intensely inter- 
ested in his story — at the time I was ready to promise 
anything, everthing. That is how I accepted the 
trust; that is why I am here to-night. Senator John, 
the best old fellow under the sun, accompanies me as 
a free lance, alwa)’s ready for an adventure, and a 
man who has seen every odd thing in the world. 

“As to Guy Livingstone, your cousin, and the old 
French lawyer, I fancy their story would be of a 
different tenor from mine, could they be prevailed 
upon to speak.” 

“lam sure ®f it. There are many things connected 
with this matter about which you know nothing, and 
at present I cannot tell you. I thank you for what 


THE VIRGIJSIAN HOODWINKED. 43 

you have done — I even have assurance enough to ask 
a continuance of your friendship.’^ 

Bob is under a spell while her bright e3^es meet 
his, and ready to promise all that a brave and honor- 
able man should. He gave his word to Rudolph 
Gordon, the grandfather ; he renews it with the re- 
markable forest nymph whose acquaintance he has 
made in such a singular manner. 

All this while there is one near by who is figura- 
tively on nettles. It is the Virginian. He has been 
hoodwinked by the artful Gypsy into joining the 
game of euchre, and it is now impossible for him to 
leave without breaking up the game. 

He casts dozens of black looks in the direction of 
the corner where the two sit ; he plays a miserable 
game, and is compelled to assume a gayety he far 
from feels, in order to deceive the others of the party. 

If Monsieur Merle is inwardly disturbed, he does 
not show it outwardly ; his sphinx-like, parchment 
face discloses no emotion ; the fires of Hades might 
rage within, but on the surface all is a polished calm. 
Ah ! he is a deep plotter, this diplomatic French law- 
yer; his game is deeper than that of the Virginian, 
and he will win it, too, unless Gypsy Gordon and her 
newly found ally prove to be made of better material 
than himself. 

The game ends at last — that with the cards, for 
the real one, with human figures or opposing chess- 
men, has only begun, and Livingstone loses no time 
in seeking the presence of his cousin — but that hour 
costs him dear. 


u 


THE GIRL WHO DARED. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE GIRIv WHO DARED. 

The remainder of the evening is passed in conver- 
sation, for whatever motives may be deep beneath 
the surface, those who are present have the power 
and faculty of at least appearing at their ease in good 
society. 

Miss Estelle may wonder what it is that brings 
them here, she may even suspect that some of them 
have intentions that concern the inhabitants of 
Hawk’s Nest, but she is a lady, and acts the part of 
a hostess. 

Hospitality is apparently a part of her nature, and 
no gentleman could ever leave the shelter of a house 
where she had any control, with night settled down, 
— especially when the forest stretched around on 
every hand. 

Bob makes no further effort to have a private con- 
versation with the young girl, nor could he have 
done so had he chosen, with the shrewd Virginian 
watching. 

Since Gypsy had been so remarkably successful 
with regard to making an opportunity for an ex- 
change of views, he feels disposed to trust her for 
the future. 

If she wants to see more of him, depend upon it, 


THE GIRL WHO HARED. 


45 


she will accomplish the fact in spite of all the Liv- 
ingstones and Monsieur Merles in the wide world. 

Somehow, Bob entertains a remarkably good opin- 
ion of the young girl — what he has seen of her influ- 
ences him in this way — the double adventure of the 
late afternoon — how few girls could have shown such 
courage in the face of danger? 

When the time for retiring comes, Gypsy rings for 
servants, who appear. 

“Marc Anthony, show these gentlemen to the 
Blue Room. Csesar, these gentlemen will occupy 
the Red Room. This is only a forest lodge, remem- 
ber, and pardon the absence of luxuries.’’ 

All of them, of course, at once protest against such 
apologies, declaring they had never dreamed such a 
wonderful habitation could be met with so deep in 
the wilderness, and that there is really nothing the 
heart could wish for that they have not found close 
at hand. 

Bob surveys his room with curiosity ; it is plainly 
but neatly furnished, and the prevailing color being 
red has given it a name. 

As for Senator John, his interest is wholly taken 
up with the bed upon which he means to pass the 
next seven hours, and the grunt of satisfaction which 
he gives proves beyond a doubt that he anticipates 
a better night than the last one spent at a country 
tavern. 

Bob has little to say, for his mind is wholly taken 
up with thoughts of Gypsy and her destiny. 

Only a few hours before and he had never set eyes 
on the girl ; now it seems as though he has known 


46 


THE GIRL WHO HARED. 


her for years; the same old, old story again, which 
seems never to get out of fashion — which began with 
the regard Adam had for Eve, and will continue to 
the time of the last man and woman on earth. 

As he sits there at the window, he hears a sound 
behind — lo ! honest Senator John has actually gone 
to sleep while seated in his chair, engaged in survey- 
ing the bed which promised him such a comfortable 
night’s rest. 

Bob is about to take the hint when his attention is 
attracted toward something he sees outside. The 
moon has wheeled above the horizon, and the dark- 
ness that succeeded the great forest fire has given way 
under her magic spell. 

What he sees is a moving figure — a nian. Bob, of 
course, does not know what the habits of these good 
people are when at their lodge in the heart of the 
forest, but he is inclined to believe there is some- 
thing singular about this fact, so he watches the 
man with curiosity, himself concealed from view. 

The man seems to skulk around — his very actions 
arouses Bob’s suspicions still more. Have the in- 
mates of the Hawk’s Nest enemies who would do 
them harm — perhaps some unfaithful servant, seek- 
ing to avenge his fancied wrongs, comes skulking 
around with the intention of burning the house. 

Bob is awake to the emergency. The light burns 
low in the room, and Senator John snores. 

It happens that the window at which Bob sits is 
on the shaded side of the house, facing the west. 
There is also a very easy way of reaching the 
ground, to such an agile man. 


THE GIRL WHO DARED. 


47 


The notion comes suddenly, and he resolves to fol- 
low this shadowy figure, in order to better satisfy his 
mind with regard to the motive that brings the 
fellow here. 

In five minutes from the time he decides upon this 
move, he lands upon the ground outside, and the 
thing has been neatly done, too. 

Glancing around, he finds that the shadowy figure 
still skulks near by, having, meanwhile, approached 
closer to the house. 

Bob is more than ever convinced that the man. 
means mischief, and congratulates himself upon his 
wakefulness. Sometimes it pays to be thinking about 
a girl’s face. 

The man aims to reach the shadow which conceals 
Bob, and soon accomplishes the task. Then he mut- 
ters something that sounds like satisfaction, as though 
he has attained some cherished object. 

What will he do next — attempt to set fire to the 
house? Bob sees him stoop and pick something up 
from the ground — possibly a pebble, for he casts 'A 
upward, and the listener hears is strike glass above. 

Then a head is thrust out, as though the signalling 
has been heard, a soft whistle sounds on the night 
air, and is repeated below. 

Noiselessly the man descends in about the same 
way Bob did ; it is an easy job for an agile party. 

This means treachery in the house, and certainly 
needs looking after. Bob feels that he is the right 
man in the proper place, and is ready to devote his 
energies toward serving the girl who has crossed his 
path so strangely. 


48 


THE GIRL WHO DARED. 


The two shadowy figures put their heads close 
together; in vain does he strain his hearing; it is 
impossible to catch even a word, so that he must de- 
pend more upon their actions than anything else in 
order to get at the root of their trouble. 

They move away, following the wall of the 
wooden building, but he does not believe it is their 
intention to leave the premises. 

Just as he is about to follow, Bob^s keen ears catch 
what seems to be the closing of a door, though the 
sound is so faint that it can hardly be distinguished 
from the soughing of the wind in the pines. 

Half believing he must have made a mistake, he 
starts on, when he sees a movement just ahead, as 
though one of the couple has dropped behind, or else 
a new figure came into the game. 

Then some one must have, come out of the house. 
Bob looks closer, as a sudden suspicion flashes into 
his brain, and then under his breath he exclaims; 

“It must be Gypsy!’’ 

He notes that the figure is small ; if a man he 
wears a long black cloak, but Bob has full confidence 
that his first guess is right. 

It would be just like the girl, too; she has the 
qualities of a heroine in her composition, and in any 
emergency would be found taking a leading part. 

His interest increases, for he feels that he may yet 
be called upon to defend her. 

A unique chase it is, each party ignorant of the 
fact that another follows — a chase that is bound to 
end in some climax. 

The two men, having arrived at that part of the 


THE GIRL WHO DARED. 


49 


building where the southwest breeze strikes it, have 
come to a halt. They bend low and talk in whispers; 
their very actions proclaim their motives dishonor- 
able, for men who are bent upon reputable business 
do not creep around and whisper together at such 
an hour of the night. Now they seem to be engaged 
in some work that requires united action ; a portion 
of the long, wooden piazza lies here, and they seem 
to be drawing something out, something that is not 
unlike dried grass, and which crackles as they 
press it into a pile. 

Pemberton’s suspicions were positively true, then; 
tliese rascals, bent on mischief, are for destroying 
Hawk’s Nest. 

He feels the blood boil in his veins with indigna- 
tion ; it is a crime that merits severe punishment any- 
where, and in this western country death would be 
the penalty inflicted should a man be caught in the 
act. 

Then he remembers that there is another in the 
game, and wonders what action she will take, for he 
has made up his mind as to the identity of the figure 
ahead. 

It is soon known. 

A crackling sound is heard, a sound that can be 
made under no other conditions than when a match 
is drawn over a rough surface. Then a light flashes 
up, proving that such a condition of affairs exists. 

The light gives away the whole business, and Bob 
Pemberton sees a pile of dead grass, with two human 
forms bending over it ; even their faces are exposed, 
though strange to him. 


50 


THE GIRL WHO HARED. 


Guilt does not like to be seen ; darkness suits it 
better, and the men look at one another in a kind of 
sudden alarm. 

“Apply the fire,” says one, gruffly. 

“Not just yet,” comes in a quiet voice. 

The match drops to the earth, and expires without 
accomplishing its purpose. Who has spoken? Bob 
need not ask the question, for he sees that cloaked 
figure advance. 

It is Gypsy. 

The two men appear dumfounded ; they utter no 
word, nor is there an attempt made at flight. Bob 
chuckles as he imagines their feelings ; she would not 
be in their shoes and face that indignant girl for 
worlds. 

“Ralph Rollins, I did not expect you to sting the 
hand that fed you. This is rank treachery — you are 
an ingrate !” 

The man cowers under her stinging words ; it is 
like a lash applied. 

“Who is this miserable fellow, this wretch who 
has tempted you to betray your friends? I ought to 
know — I will know.” 

As quick as the words she speaks, Gypsy Gordon 
strikes a match and holds it so that the light flashes 
upon their faces ; the action is so unexpectedly sudden 
that they do not have the sense to draw back. 

“Amos Peterman, and here! This is some more of 
the same work I unearthed last summer at Denver. 
You follow me even here. Once for all, tell me why 
this hatred — why this desire for revenge? I never 
wronged you — it is against my nature to wrong any 


THE GIRL WHO DARED. 


61 


one. Live and let live has been my motto. Have you 
both lost your tongues? Speak!” 

They writhe in their abasement, but open not 
their mouths. 

“Shame on you, for men, to war upon a girl. If 
you must plot and do evil, pick out those who can 
meet you openly. I have not been in ignorance — I 
suspected something of this sort when I saw Ralph 
Rollins climbing down from the servants’ quarters. 
You see I came prepared.” 

She holds something up ; her arm comes into the 
flood of moonlight, and that something proves to be 
a short riding whip, almost as stoutly built as a 
cowhide. 

“Would you lay that on us. Miss Gypsy?” whines 
the fellow called Rollins, a sneaking hypocrite, a 
canting coward and turn coat, ready to betray his 
best friend for money. 

“It is my nature to abhor treachery; I would 
sooner cut off my right hand than betray one who 
has befriended me. I would teach you a lesson ; I 
mean to show you that I am mistress here, and Gypsy 
Gordon can punish as well as reward.” 

Bob is ready to shout “amen” to that; never in 
all his life has he run across a girl whose spirit shines 
out like this. Who could help admiring her — almost 
worshiping her? 

“Have a care, miss!” growls the man whom she 
has called Amos Peterman. 

“Of what?” 

“You don’t know the men you face; you wouldn’t 
dare lay that lash on me.” 


52 


THE OIRL WHO DARED. 


She laughs contemptuously. 

“You are a coward, or you wouldn’t be engaged 
in such work as this. It never enters my mind to re- 
gard such a man any more than the snake I tread on 
with my heel. You have pursued me with a vindic- 
tiveness that can only spring from the fact that you 
are employed by another to injure me. Tell your 
employer, whoever that person may be, that Gypsy 
Gordon stands ready to deal him out the same treat- 
ment (lash) she bestows on the reptile he employs 
(lash) and you, also, Ralph Rollins.” 

The whip desends with furious force upon the 
shoulders of the two crouching , would be incendi- 
aries; it comes so suddenly that they are bewildered, 
and do not attempt to avoid their punishment, 
although writhing under it as might so many curs, for 
the lash is wielded with no little force, and doubtless 
stings as it falls upon their necks and shoulders. 

“Death and furies!” exclaims Amos. 

“Mercy!” whines the miserable Ralph. 

The little whip keeps up the same time, and it is 
evident that Gypsy Gordon means to impress the les- 
son on her unwilling pupils in a manner they will not 
soon forget. 

As for Bob, that amused individual can hardly re- 
press a shout — he feels like clapping his hands and 
cheering the girl on who dares stand up for her 
rights, and giving vent to the cry of “bravo” that 
trembles on his lips. 

Still he refrains; this is her business, and until it 
becomes absolutely necessary, he must not interfere. 

At the same time he pushes nearer, and quietly re- 


THE GIRL WHO DARED. 


53 


moves his coat and rolls up his shirt sleeves as might 
a gladiator ere commencing his work in the ring. 

Ralph Rollins, after receiving a few lashes, rolls 
over on the ground, groaning, then scrambles to 
his knees, finds himself beyond the reach of the little 
whip, regains his feet, and speeds away. 

Hawk’s Nest will know him no longer; it would 
be a decidedly unhealthy region for a man of his size, 
caught in such a despicable act. 

Amos Peterman, the fellow who has pursued such 
a strange, vindictive course toward the young owner 
of the forest lodge, has more of the wolf in his 
nature. He forgets all save the fact that he is being 
lashed with scorpions, for the riding whip leaves a 
welt wherever it curls around his face or neck. 

So, with the savage growl of a beast, he struggles 
to his feet and rushes at the girl, when she is sud- 
denly but firmly pushed to one side, and the wretch 
faces a man — faces Bob Pemberton. 


TOLD UNDER THE MOON, 


6i 


CHAPTER VI. 

TOI,D UNDER THE MOON. 

The situation instantly assumes another phase in 
the eyes of Amos ; he could dare when the object of 
his wrath was a frail slip of a girl, but it is a different 
matter to find himself face to face with a man, who 
has doffed his coat, and evidently prepared himself 
for a battle royal. 

He gives one look, and believing discretion the 
better part of valor, proceeds to beat as hasty a 
retreat as even Ralph Rollins could boast. 

Bob makes a start after him ; his blood is on fire 
to avenge the insult put upon the young girl by a 
wretch who would even dare strike her, but a soft 
voice calls; 

‘‘Bob Pemberton, come here; I want you.” 

And Bob immediately slackens his furious pace, 
comes to a halt, turns, and retraces his steps. When 
he faces Gypsy Gordon he finds her laughing; the 
ridiculous side of the question has appealed to her 
nature ; for the time being she ignores the graver 
issue. 

“You look as though ready for business,” she ex- 
claims, as Bob resumes his coat and thus disposes of 
his belligerent appearance. 

“I’m only sorry I failed to get hold of the rascal — 
I’ll regret it to my dying day.” 


TOLD U^DEH THE MOON. 


55 


“Don’t you think I punished him quite enough?” 
she asks, quietly. 

Bob remembers how that little riding whip whistled 
through the air each time it fell with cutting em- 
phasis upon the face and neck of the coward Amos, 
and he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well, I reckon he’ll be pretty sore over it — yes, 
you gave him what he deserved. Miss Gypsy, but I 
feel as though I should have liked to have had a 
finger in the pie. ” 

“Wait — you may yet have plenty of chances to 
defeat the plans of such a schemer. The end is not 
yet— his employer is not in this affair for an hour or 
a day, but a lifetime. When you know the whole 
story. Bob Pemberton, you will understand that this 
strange incident which you have seen to-night is 
only one of a long list of similar occurrences, aimed 
against the owner of Hawk’s Nest.” 

“But there must be an object for such base opera- 
tions — a deep object, I am sure.” 

“And you are quite right. Perhaps you might find 
it hard to believe, from my manner, that I am perse- 
cuted as few girls have ever been, but you have seen 
enough of me to see that trouble will not stick to me 
any more than water on a duck’s back; my nature 
is such that the bright side of things always appeals 
to me. I am merry under most discouraging circum- 
stances, and, even after the experience of this night, 
when a trusted servant has turned upon me, I am 
not despondent. ” 

“A wonderful and enviable disposition to have. I 


56 


TOLD UNDER THE MOON. 


confess you astonish me at every turn. I never 
chanced to meet a young woman just like you.’’ 

“All ! there is but one Gypsy Gordon,” she says, 
with a nod, and Pemberton agrees with her. 

“This was a monstrous thing for them to attempt. 
Why, any or all of us might have been burned to 
death in our beds. ” 

“Hardly that — I think his motive was more one of 
pecuniary loss — something to frighten me.” 

“But the house is built of wood, and, once afire, 
would burn like tinder. It was a deed that merits 
severe punishment.” 

She looks at him in a peculiar way. 

“What would you think if I told you that this is 
the fourth time I have been able to defeat this unseen 
enemy, in some such scheme?” 

“I am amazed — you, a girl, without any assist- 
ance, baffle such conspirators. I begin to lose the firm 
belief I have always had in the superiority of my sex. 
You unite the good qualities of your own with the 
better ones of masculine humanity — bravery and 
independence I wish ” 

“What?” quickly. 

“That you would let me embark with you in this 
mysterious crusade against your enemies. I have a 
strong arm — I know your heart is brave, but some 
time they might catch you napping. Anyhow, two 
are better than one.” 

Gypsy drops her head to one side, a habit peculiar 
to herself, and seems to cogitate. 

“Well, I don’t know why I shouldn’t, since it 
seems decreed by fate that we should share dangers, 


TOLD mDER THE MOON. 


57 


to some extent. Of course, in that event, I will have 
to tell you everything.” 

“Everything, ” he echoes. 

“By degrees, of course. Told at once, I am afraid 
it would demoralize you. I have found, at times, 
that it does not take much more than a pretty face to 
turn the head of an ordinary man.” 

“Don’t be malicious. Miss Gordon — I admit the 
impeachment; but this is a strange place in which to 
be talking. Hadn’t we better return to the house — 
no one seems to have been aroused by the sounds of 
battle, though.” 

“We can talk here — it is as good a place as any, 
for there is no chance of being overheard. You won- 
der who this strange enemy can be — the person who 
thus tries to create alarm and terror in me.” 

“I confess to having some curiosity. You have 
enemies, it is plain. I only know Livingstone.” 

She shook her head. 

“Oh, no! it is not Cousin Guy. His motive is one 
of greedy gain — it is the wealth left by Rudolph 
Gordon he covets. This person who is responsible for 
the several peculiar attacks upon my property has 
another design — revenge.” 

“What have you ever done to injure him — I don’t 
see how any man could hate you?” 

“Stupid,” she says, quickly. “The gold that 
crossed Ralph Rollins’ palm came from a woman’s 
purse.” 

“I begin to see light.” 

“You think she is jealous — that I have destroyed 
her chances with some man, That is where you go 


58 


TOLD UNDER THE MOON. 


astray. To my knowledge, I have never harmed her. 
The bitter feeling she cherishess comes from another 
source. I will briefly relate it. 

‘‘The fortune that is in my hands came to me 
through my mother — there was a sad mistake, and a 
certain woman whom I shall call Josephine believed 
for a year that all was hers. Then my lawyers put in 
a claim, the proofs were overwhelming, and I came 
into possession of the Armitage estate. 

“I felt sorry for Josephine, and even offered her a 
share of the property, but she spurned it, and de- 
clared she would have all or none. As a side issue, a 
foolish young man to whom she was engaged thought 
he was in love with me. I laughed at him and sent 
him back to her, but she hates me doubly on account 
of his foolish fancy. There, in a nutshell, you have 
the reason of her animosity. She does not seek my 
life — I have never believed so, at least — but I know 
Josephine would rejoice at the loss of my fortune, 
or some accident that would disfigure my face for 
life.^’ 

“Has she attempted that?” exclaimed Bob 
Pemberton. 

“I am ashamed of my sex when I declare, deliber- 
ately, that I fear it is so. On one occasion, a girl in 
my employ, while in Denver, was led, by some 
unhappy fate, to wear a dress of mine — at the time I 
was away. In the street some man threw vitriol in 
her face, and she was horribly disfigured for life.” 

“What a fiend passion makes of its victims,” said 
Bob, aghast at her recital. 

“You see what I have to fight against.” 


TOLD UNDER THE MOON. 


69 


^‘Yes, and most persons would be distracted by 
the terrible situation, while you act as though there 
was no evil on earth.” 

‘‘I cannot help it — my nature will not allow me 
to be cast down, no matter how serious the condition 
may be. I have reason to believe Josephine will con- 
fide in Cousin Guy, and my apprehension is that all 
of them will form a league against me — they will 
endeavor to prevent my going to Virginia to claim 
my grandfather^s estate. ” 

“Let them try it — you have allies, too, in Senator 
John and Bob Pemberton. If we don’t prove a match 
for all their scheming then we deserve to lose the 
case. You have told me much, already — you will, I 
am sure, confide even more in me as time passes.” 

“How can I help it — I was of some assistance to 
you — and you canceled the debt by saving my life in 
the forest fire. ” 

‘ ‘ N on sense — I ’ ’ 

“The thought has even occurred to me that this 
fearful fire might be traced to her hands.” 

“Really, I can well believe it, since you have 
told me these various things she has done. This 
Josephine is a remarkable woman.” 

“In more senses than one. She was an actress a 
few years ago, and might have made a fortune on 
the stage if she had not conceived the mad idea of 
securing the inheritance left by my mother. Her last 
act has been the crowning one of all. You will 
hardly believe me when I tell it.” 

“I can believe anything, after what I have seen 
here — besides, it comes from you.” 


60 


TOLD UNDER THE MOON.^ 


The delicate compliment contained in this last is 
not lost upon Gypsy, who gives him a little courtesy. 

“Thanks. I hope you will always have that high 
opinion of me,” she says. 

“I wish you would leave this wilderness and go 
back to Denver.” ^ 

“Wherefore? The same danger pursues me therej 
as here — indeed, I have even fancied it was worse in 
the city. For months I have known and fought 
against the combination.” 

“You, a lonely girl, battle with such powers of 
darkness^ — it amazes me. I am cured of my silly be- 
lief in man’s superiority. I humbly beg that you will 
allow me to assist in the work of defeating your 
.enemies.” 

“Gladly. Already I experience a feeling of relief 
at the prospect of having a sincere friend in whom I 
may confide my troubles and who will assist me in 
any emergency. I have succeeded in defeating the 
powers allied against me in the past, but the clouds 
are gathering more densely, and I fear for the future 
if I must struggle against them alone and unaided. 
It was bad enough when the evil lay outside — at 
least I could depend upon an asylum in my own 
house. Now that prop is knocked from under my' 
feet, since treachery has invaded Hawk’s Nest.” 

“Meaning the fellow who ran away with such' 
speed — Ralph Rollins, you called him.” J 

“He is one.” 

“What! are there more, then?” 

“Ah! my friend, I made an accidental discovery 
this very day that has both pained and distressed me. 


TOLD UNDER THE MOON, 


61 


My eyes have been blind of late — I knew not the 
enemy could be so bold/’ 

“Now you mean — Josephine. I really must see 
this woman — surely, she is a marvel — having set 
her heart on a game, she is ready to risk everything 
she possesses in order to win.” 

“That is Josephine Armitage to a dot. All the 
powers of earth cannot move her — only absolute de- 
feat will crush such a woman. You say you would 
like to see her?” 

“Yes.” 

“You have already done so,” in a low voice that 
thrills Bob strangely. 

“Where — when — I don’t remember.” 

“Ah ! she deceived me for seven days, and acted 
her part to perfection. I shall tell yoi* presently how 
I found her out before I went to the woods to day. ” 

“She is here — in Hawk’s Nest?” 

“Yes.” 

“A servant?” 

“Not at all, but calmly and deliberately acting the 
part of the aunt I had never seen when I sent for her. 
The lady you met as Miss Gordon is Josephine 
Armitage.” 


62 


BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 


CHAPTER VII. 

BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 

The intelligence is so stunning that Bob hardly 
knows whether he is dreaming or not. 

“Bless my soul, this lady looks forty-five if a day, 
and yet I judge, from what you have told me, that 
Josephine must be a young woman, he says. 

“Ah! you forget she was a bright actress. She 
knows how to make up to deceive more suspicious 
eyes than mine. Hatred such as hers is capable of 
anything. Since making this dreadful discovery I 
have been wandering in the forest, more because I 
desired a chance to ponder over the strange facts and 
lay out a plan of action, than I had any desire to 
shoot game. Thus fate threw us together.’’ 

“But you cannot go on living in this way with 
such a merciless woman under your roof. The next 
time her evil designs may succeed. What will you 
do — send her away ?’ ’ 

“I have not yet decided. In spite of the great 
wrongs she has done me, yet I am sorry for her. I 
shall make one last attempt to change her heart, and 
if that is a failure ” 

“Well?” 

“Then I must resort to other methods for my life 
is in danger. ’ ’ 

How quietly she speaks — Bob Pemberton is more 


BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 63 

than ever thrilled with a consciousness of her power, 
her individuality. Truly there is but one Gypsy Gor- 
don in all this wide world. He is ready to thank the 
fate that brought him in contact with this charming 
person, and is ready to agree with the poet, who 
wrote : 

“There is a Divinity 
That shapes our ends, 

Rough-hew them as we will.” 

That visit to Virginia — his getting lost and discov- 
ering the Gordon Manor at dusk — ^his interview with 
eccentric old Rudolph on his dying bed, and accept- 
ance of the latter’s trust — all these are merely phases 
of the road over which Fortune is daily and hourly 
leading him in the maddest chase he ever knew. The 
goal — well. Bob begins to realize what it means now, 
and can even give a vague guess as to what old 
Rudolph meant, when, after so closely inspecting 
him on that night, and learning that he was a 
bachelor, he muttered, in a grim sort of way: 

“I imagine he will save her.” 

“Perhaps we had better go in now,” remarks the 
man from New York, although he would not offer 
any objections to a longer tete-a-tete with this 
wonderful girl of theforest Eden. 

“Shall I show you the way?” she asks. 

“I had better go back as I came, since the door of 
our room is locked, and I would not like to disturb 
the slumbers of dear old John. He does look so very 
contented and happy when asleep.” 

“You are sure of your bearings — I remember that 


64 BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 

you have a weakness for getting lost, she says, with 
a malicious little laugh. 

“A lucky failing it turned out, too. Oh! don’t 
take any worry about me, I beg. I shall go up as 
easily as I came down, and no one will be the wiser. 
Good-night, Miss Gypsy.” 

He holds out his hand, and she quickly places her 
little brown member in it. 

“Remember, that I am in this business with a 
vengeance. I brought the message from Gordon 
Manor, and after what happened to-day, it is only 
just and proper that I should have your confidence, 
at least, so long as I merit it.” 

She looks the bold fellow in the face frankly. 

“You do — you shall. Good-night, Mr. Pemberton, 
and may you have pleasant dreams. ” 

Then she snatches her hand away before he can 
make a reply, and vanishes beyond the doorway. 

Bob smiles — he can afford to, since the game 
seems to be playing into his hands. Then he turns 
his attention toward the business he has in view. 

It took him just five minutes to get down from the 
window of the Red Room, and surely he ought 
to recover that ground in twice the time. By the 
way, which is the window — he was so very sure of 
it a minute ago when talking with the eccentric 
granddaughter of old Rudolph Gordon, the wealthy 
Virginia recluse, and yet he is ready to confess some 
little doubt with regard to it now. 

Stepping back, he eyes the windows above. 

“I^et me see, did I turn to the right or left — it was 


BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 


65 


the latter, of course. Yes, I recognize the line I took 
along that edge — here goes.” 

His limbs are rather stiff and sore from the tre- 
mendous exertions of the day, but Bob is something 
of an athlete, being a tried and true member of the 
Manhattan Athletic Club, when at home in New 
York. 

He skirmishes up the water pipe to the shed, 
luckily on the darkened side of the house. Before 
the ten minutes are up he has reached the window 
he seeks and seems perfectly satisfied that there has 
been no mistake made. So he swings a leg over the 
sill, and enters as quietly as he can, not wishing to 
disturb the slumbers of Senator John. 

No sooner has he really entered the room than he 
becomes conscious of two things that give him an un- 
easy feeling. As well as he can remember the room 
they occupied was scented with the odor of the 
Havana he smoked, while Senator John slept in his 
chair. This apartment, on the contrary, is delight- 
fully perfumed with violets or new-mown hay. 

A cold chill creeps up and down Bob’s spinal col- 
umn — can he, after all, have made a ridiculous blun- 
der and entered the wrong room ? He listens — surely, 
if he has not, a certain sound should be heard, tell- 
ing him so — the nasal trumpet of his stout comrade, 
the man who has been in every country under the 
sun, and retains mementoes of each. 

Bob listens with his heart in his mouth. 

He thinks he hears a slight rustling sound, but, 
beyond that, and the murmur of the wind in the 


66 


BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 


branches of trees outside, all is still. So he ventures 
to give vent to a whispered call : 

“John, old fellow, where are you?’’ 

In answer, a peculiar sound greets him — it is a 
rasping noise, as of something being drawn over 
sand paper — something that instantly bursts into a 
blaze — a match. 

Poor Bob holds his breath — ^^the embarrassing na- 
ture of his position gives him a shock such as he can 
never remember receiving before. What does he see 
— well, the blazing match discloses, within fifteen 
feet of him, the face of Miss Estelle, or, as he knows 
her now, Josephine Armitage. She is dressed in a 
wrapper, with her hair down her back — she looks 
almost twenty years younger than in the daytime — a 
fact Bob can readily understand, after having heard 
the story of Gypsy Gordon. 

That face now blazes with mixed emotions — the 
light of the tiny torch reveals amazement, contempt, 
and even deep satisfaction, but not alarm. Thus, for 
a dozen seconds, these two look at one another. Bob, 
with a sense of humiliation over the bad break he 
has, in his stupidity, made, and the spinster with 
perfect self-control. 

“So, it is you, Mr. Pemberton, who, at the hour 
of midnight ” 

“Miss Gordon!” he exclaims. 

“Creeps into the room of a lady in the style of a 
burglar. Do you seek my rings, my watch, my 
jewelry — they all lie yonder on the dresser.” 

How these bitter words cut. 

“It is a foolish — a ridiculous blunder, Miss Gor- 


BOB PBMBmiTOX IN THE WliONO ROOM, 


67 


don, I assure you,” he pursues, gradually getting his 
head again, as he remembers that at least Gypsy will 
believe him, and, really, that is all he cares about. 

“Perhaps so, my dear sir,” and the match, having 
done its duty, expires; “but every one will not be- 
lieve so should I scream and hold on to you thus,” 
upon which she suddenly catches his arm with both 
hands. 

Bob Pemberton realizes that he has a desperate 
woman to deal with, and that if he desires to come 
out of this little affair with honor, he must keep his 
wits about him. 

He preserves his coolness, which is very wise. 

“Madam, it is true you might give me some little 
inconvenience by the course you suggest, but I am 
not sure it would not hurt you fully as much. In 
the first place, I can prove the truth of my assertion 
that, in endeavoring to regain my room by way of 
the window, I made a mistake and turned to the left 
when I should have gone to the right.” 

“A very plausible explanation, but my dear sir, 
are gentlemen in New York in the habit of climbing 
in and out of windows of their room when they visit 
country houses?” 

The sneer is very perceptible in her voice. 

Bob is at once impressed with the ridiculous side 
of the matter, and he actually laughs softly. 

“It does seem out of all reason, and I confess the 
action looks suspicious, but I beg to assure you that 
Miss Gypsy Gordon will vouch for the fact that I 
aimed to clamber in at the window of my own room 
when I made the blunder.” 


68 


BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 


“Gypsy — what does she know about it?” demands 
the other, suddenly, and her voice grows even harder 
than usual, if that can be possible. 

“I see I must tell you the story before you will 
consent to let me leave here and seek my own 
apartments. ” 

“Oh, certainly. If there is a story, relate it, but 
please be brief. I am not in the habit of receiving 
gentlemen in a dressing gown.” 

She releases his arm, however. The room is not 
wholly dark, now that his eyes have become accus- 
tomed to it, for the moonlight outside is in a measure 
reflected through the window. 

“I was sitting at my window, smoking — Senator 
John had gone to sleep in his chair, when my atten- 
tion was attracted by a moving figure in the moon- 
light below. Watching the man, I became convinced 
that he meant some evil, and, seeing how easily I 
could reach the ground, I determined to follow and 
see what he was up to. 

“This I did. Presently he was joined by a man 
from the house, and the two conferred together. Just 
as they were about setting fire to some brush and 
dead leaves gathered against the side of the house. 
Miss Gypsy appeared and gave both of them a good 
hiding, while I watched the fun until they ran away. ” 

He can hear something like the grating of teeth, 
but takes no notice of the sound. 

“Well?” she says, with an effort. 

“I congratulated Miss Gypsy on her proficiency 
with the riding whip, and regretted that the rascals 
had proven too cowardly to give me a show. Then I 


BOB PEMBEIiTON IN THE WRONG ROOM, 69 

set about climbing up to my room, as we bad the 
door locked, and I did not care to disturb poor old 
Senator John. You know the rest.” 

“ Yes, I know the rest. A very specious story you 
tell, Mr. Pemberton. I must confess it is too tough a 
morsel for one like myself to successfully grapple 
with.” 

“Ah! you choose not to believe it. Very good. I 
must again wish you good-night.” 

“No, you shall not go yet — 1 will call out and 
alarm the house. You are in my power — you shall 
tell me what brought you here, to this isolated lodge 
in the wilderness — I demand it.” 

“That is business which concerns another party, 
and I do not choose to betray the confidence be- 
stowed upon me.” 

“I shall insist upon it. I^eave this room you shall 
not until I hear all.” 

She is determined, and Bob sees there is nothing 
for him to do but to play the last stroke he has held 
in reserve, a course he would rather avoid, if possible, 
as it throws him into the game, and makes a mortal 
enemy out of this sheming actress who has deceived 
Gypsy with such rare tact. That time has now come, 
and, to save himself from the unpleasant conse- 
quences that must necessarily follow the threatened 
outcry on the part of the spinster, he feels compelled 
to touch off his reserved bomb. 

“You are mistaken, my dear lady — you will gladly 
allow me to leave this room in peace, in return for a 
promise on my part not to betray your secret.” 


70 BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 

He speaks calmly, deliberately, as one who knows 
his power. 

“My secret — what do you mean?” comes from the 
figure before him. 

“You sail under false colors.” 

“Confusion! how much do you know. Bob Pem- 
berton?” she whispers, tragically. 

“You are Josephine Armitage, the actress,” he 
says, with great deliberation and indifference. 

“Ah' he knows it, this man who enters my win- 
dow at midnight, this man who comes to Hawk’s 
Nest with a mission for her. I am in his power. 
Stay 1 you said you had a price — that you would 
remain silent if I allowed you to depart from here 
without raising an alarm. Am I right?” 

She is almost breathless from excitement now, and 
it is evident that the strain tells. 

“I promise this — that I will not inform Miss 
Gypsy of your identity — it must suffice,” for he feels 
safe in doing this, as the young girl already knows 
all about Josephine. 

“It will do — you can go,” she mutters, and 
opposes no further obstruction to his progress. 

Bob gets over that window sill with a rapidity that 
is quite charming to see. He counts himself decidedly 
lucky to escape her clutches so easily, this plotting 
woman who seems to hesitate at nothing in order to 
accomplish her purpose. 

Once outside, he knows where he made the 
mistake that came near costing him so dear, and 
proceeds to remedy it. 


BOB PEMBERTON IN THE WRONG ROOM. 


71 


This time he reaches the window that must surely 
belong to his apartment. 

Just as he throws one leg over the sill, and is about 
to enter, something as cold as ice touches his temple, 
and a low voice grates : 

“Surrender, intruder, or you’re a dead man!” 

Poor Bob is again in trouble. 


72 


ON THE HOAD TO DENVEH. 


CHAPTER' VIIL 

ON THE ROAD TO DENVER. 

Bob gives a groan of despair, and then as suddenly 
brightens up, as something flashes through his mind 
— ^something that gives him immediate relief. 

‘‘John, old man, hold your fire,” he says. 

“Bless my soul, it’s Bob, after all. You young ras- 
cal, what does this mean — are you working off super- 
fluous muscle in gymnastics, climbing over the roof 
of this wonderful lodge in a vast wilderness? Explain 
yourself, my boy.” 

This Bob is only too ready and willing to do, and 
dropping into a chair he heaves a tremendous sigh of 
relief. 

“I could a tale unfold that would harrow up your 
soul and freeze your blood,” he says, to which the 
other responds : 

“Well, freeze away, then, dear boy. I’m awfully 
mixed up about this business. I tell you I awaken 
from a little nap to hear some one climbing to the 
window, and when I cover him with a weapon 
expecting to get game, lo ! it turns out to be my 
friend.” 

Bob only waits until this little tirade is over, when 
he starts in. What he has to tell is exciting enough 
to rivet the attention of his comrade, and not one 
word falls from the lips of the old traveler until Bob 
finishes. 


ON TEE ROAD TO DENVER. 73 

Then he relieves the pent-up feelings of his system 
by an ejaculation. 

“Quite a good beginning, Bob, my boy.” 

“You know I promised you some dramatic develop- 
ments if you came with me.” 

“And right nobly are you keeping that promise, 
what with our getting separated, your series of 
adventures in the forest, including the escape from 
roasting, and now, right on top of it comes this queer 
set of doings. Yes, you have already nobly kept your 
word.” 

They converse a while in low tones. The scene from 
the window of the lodge is charming, as moonlight 
views are apt to be, but our two travelers are really 
too tired to remain up much longer. The couch 
appears inviting, and both soon retire. 

It is a long time before the young man loses him- 
self in slumber. The exciting events of the day and 
night, and the effect Gypsy Gordon has upon his 
mind, keeps him awake. 

Finally, he succumbs to nature and drops asleep, 
though no doubt in dreams he passes through the 
same scenes that have occupied his waking hours. 
Once he awakens and sits up — he is not certain but 
from the valley road come sounds very like the hoof 
beats of a galloping horse. Bob takes notice of the 
fact because he has not forgotten Ralph Rollins, and 
Amos Peterman, the men who felt the sting of Gypsy 
Gordon’s riding whip earlier in the night. Perhaps 
they may have laid a plan whereby a couple of horses 
could be stolen from the stable in order to effect their 
escape from the country. 


74 


ON THE HOAD TO DENVER. 


Morning at last. 

The sun brightens up the landscape, and all nature 
looks joyous. There is an odor of smoke in the air, 
coining, perhaps, from the burned timber, and this 
selves to remind Bob that he should be doubly thank- 
ful that he is alive and in a condition to enjoy the 
beauties of this fall morning. It was a close call, and 
he can never forget it, any more than he will be able 
to get from his mind the image of this wonderful 
girl who already has such a hold on him. 

Senator John is outside — whatever his faults may 
be, tardiness of rising is certainly not among them. 

So Bob dresses, and looks more critically than 
usual at his features, for he passed through a severe 
ordeal on the former day, both in regard to the fire and 
his meeting one who seems destined to be his fate. 

Down below, he finds the bright girl who owns 
this remarkable lodge, whose eccentric whim it is to 
have a home in the wilderness. Gypsy greets him 
with a smile and a cheery “good -morning^ ^ that 
gives him a new experience. 

“I’ve been waiting for you — there is news,” she 
says, nodding mysteriously. 

“Something has happened since I saw you?” 

“Yes — guess what it is. ” 

“About— ahem! — Josephine?” with a cautious 
look around, to make sure that person is not near. 

“About Josephine Armitage. ” 

“Has she — gone?” 

“You miserable man, to guess it the first shot.” 
“Well, I remember hearing the tramp of a horse 
during the night— she went mounted, of course?” 


ON THE ROAD TO DENVER. 


75 


“Yes, on a horse I gave her, as iny respected aunt. 
But, even granted that you did hear a galloping 
horse, why should that make you think she had - left 
Hawk’s Nest?” 

“Ah ! I have a secret, too. I have certain facts that 
give me that impression.” 

“Do you mean to keep it from me?” 

“On the contrary, I am only too anxious to 
confide it to you. ” 

“There is no time like the present. Come, sir, sit 
down here, and I will play. the Father Confessor.” 

“Only too willingly would I forever breathe my 
fears and secret longings in the ears of such a con- 
fessor, ” he says, boldly, but she only laughs. 

“Please confine your remarks to what concerns us 
at present,” she says. 

So he tells of the remarkable incident that befell 
him while endeavoring to find his room on the pre- 
vious night, after leaving her. . Gypsy smiles at his 
confusion when admitting his blunder — he had been 
so confident, as he left her, that he could retrace his 
passage. 

“I understand, now, ” she declares, when he has 
concluded the wonderful story, “what she meant in 
her note — you were the circumstances she feared,” 
and then she produces the note in question, which 
Josephine left in her room. 

He reads : 

“Miss Gypsy Gordon: — Since saying good-night, 
circumstances have arisen that tell me the truth is 
probably known to you. My plans have, thus far, 
failed — I hardly know what the future holds for us 


76 


ON THE ROAD TO DENVER. 


both. Were I less determined on a policy of revenge, 
what I have seen of you in this week’s time might 
have disarmed me — as it is my life is devoted to the 
one object of retaliation. Through you I lost what 
I desired most on earth — from my French mother I 
inherit a nature that will not brook interference. 
Hence you shall yet suffer, girl. Until we meet again, 
au devoir. Josephine Armitage. 

“P. S. — I take the horse you so kindly gave me. 
He is yours again when I reach Denver.” 

As Bob finishes, he hands the letter back. 

“A strange woman — she will give you more 
trouble in the future or I am mistaken. May I ask 
what you intend doing — have you formed any plans 
yet?” 

“Oh, yes. As soon as I heard your news last night 
I knew but one course remained for me.” 

“And that?” 

“To go from here to Denver, and, if necessary, to 
New York or Virginia. You have some idea of what 
my grandfather’s death means to me, but you don’t 
know all. It’s a weird story, and if our lives run 
together for a time ” 

“They will, if I have anything to say about it,” 
declares our Bob, vehemently, at which Gypsy smiles 
as though he amuses, yet pleases her. 

“I mean to take you further into my confidence, 
for I realize that it was no common accident that put 
you in the way of being Rudolph Gordon’s trusted 
messenger. He once wrote me that some time he 
would send some one to me whom I was to treat with 
great consideration. ’ ’ 


OK THE ROAD TO DENVER. 


77 


“Ha! is that what you meant when I first met you 
and said I had come all the way from New York to 
see Estelle Gordon?” 

“What did I remark?” she asks, turning her face 
away. 

“I wonder if you are that man.” 

She laughs. 

“How pat you have it, Mr. Bob.” 

“It sank into my brain, and I have thought of it 
many times. Did you mean that?” 

“Yes, but you forget — you presume to take the 
part of the confessor. I will answer no more ques- 
tions at present. In three hours we will leave 
Hawk’s Nest for Denver.” 

She speaks as composedly as though this w’ere but 
a trifling event. System has reduced things to such 
a fine point that her people know exactly what is 
expected of them. 

They go about their work, and by the hour she 
has specified the party are able to leave. A faithful 
overseer remains, in whose charge Hawk’s Nest rests 
securely. 

To the Virginian and Monsieur Merle this sudden 
flitting is pretty much of a mystery. Perhaps they 
guess something of the truth with regard to the 
strange absence of Miss Gordon, for few questions 
are asked. It may also suit their plans to get in the 
radius of civilization again. 

So the little cavalcade gallop along, five men and 
one charming, bright girl who can outride any of 
them. The servant accompanies them to return with 
the horses. In the rear is a wagon bearing trunks 


78 THE MAN WHO WOHE TUB WHITE PRIMROSE. 


and Gypsy’s maid, a sedate creature, devoted to the 
interests of her eccentric mistress. 

And after one stop at a country town over nght, 
they reach the city of Denver the second afternoon. 


BOOK TWO. 

In the Whirl at Denver. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 

Two nights later Bob Pemberton might be noticed 
wandering about in the rotunda of one of Denver’s 
best hotels, his manner uneasy as though he has fresh 
trouble on his mind. It is the same Bob whom we 
saw coolly light a weed while the gray tiger cat was 
crouching for a spring, at the time he was lost in the 
woods, though one might hardly guess his identity, 
since the outlandish garb of a mighty Nimrod has 
been exchanged for the clothes of daily life. 

Now and then he glances up at the hotel clock 
with a frown, as though he suspects that it must 
have stopped altogether, or else an extra weight is 
attached to the pendulum. Surely the minutes were 
never so long. His impatience is suspicious — it means 
one of two things — either Bob has an appointment 


TBE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PIUMEOSE. 79 

with the girl he loves, or some one whom he longs to 
thrash. 

A bell rings out on some neighboring tower, and 
the sound electrifies him. 

“There, I knew the miserable old clock was a 
bundle of deceit. It’s time now.” 

He looks around him sharply, as though he expects 
to see some one near by, looks eagerly, and upon 
meeting with disappointment, frowns. 

“Not yet — ^but he will come — I believe it. I 
wonder how this will stand the racket.” 

He bends his rattan cane across his knee — it is a 
fairly stout stick, and capable of enduring considera- 
ble hard work. Satisfied with its action, Pemberton 
begins to pull at his mustache again, and thus 
betrays his nervousness. 

“What a strange freak of fate that I, of all men, 
should pick up that note in the hall this p. m. Let’s 
see just what it says — what a fool Guy Livingstone 
must be to imagine that because Gypsy Gordon is 
lively, vivacious, even daring in her way, she would 
accept such an appointment as he makes. Strange 
that she did not confide in me, but she keeps her 
own counsel. Ah ! here it is.” 

He opens the crumpled sheet and reads to himself 
the extraordinary contents, all the while frowning 
like a pirate. 

“Dear Miss Gordon: — Believing that you might 
like to see the sights of Denver by night, I offer my 
services as a guide. If you accept, you can depend 
upon the honor of a gentleman to protect you. I will 


80 THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 


be in the rotunda at eight sharp. I will wear a white 
primrose in my lapel. Your cousin, Guy.” 

Bob gives this note a savage shake. 

‘‘There’s a delicious morsel — whoever heard of a 
man making such a blooming idiot of himself. I’d 
like to have his neck just where that paper is, the 
scoundrel. Very good — very good. If he were my 
own brother, or — Senator John, I’d teach him to go 
around insulting young girls who chance to be alone 
in the world. Ha! here’s a line, a postscript I hadn’t 
noticed before. What does it say — ‘come vailed!’ 
Hang the fellow’s impertinence, he seems to be quite 
confident that Gypsy will be on hand.” 

With this energetic remark, Pemberton begins to 
cast about him for the party who wrote the note 
which Gypsy must have accidentally dropped, and 
which fell into his hands in such a Providential way. 

He works his hands in a nervous manner, though 
they itch to lay hold of something which he can twist 
and manipulate with the spasm of fury that seizes 
upon him. 

When he has roamed about, and covered perhaps 
two-thirds of the generous space taken up by the 
rotundas and office of the great western hotel, he 
suddenly gives a little snort, whether of disgust or 
delight it would be hard to say. 

There are several score of people present, people who 
represent almost every State in the Union, and not 
a few foreigners, too, who are doing the West, and 
must, of necessity, take in the wonderful city of 
Colorado, the young giant that has rushed in the 


THE MA2i WII'J WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 81 

race until she is fast leaving all competitors in the 
lurch. 

Thus, quite a heterogeneous company is assembled, 
and under other circumstances Bob would be inter- 
ested in watching the crowd, as he is fond of such 
things. Just now he is wholly engrossed with his 
search for the distinguishing mark of the white 
primrose. 

And he finds it. 

That start betrays the fact, and he stands there 
gritting his teeth, his eyes fastened upon Guy L,iv- 
ingstone, the Virginian, who moves about, his gaze 
ever and anon turned upon the grand staircase as 
though expecting some one to descend that way — 
pinned to the left lapel of his Prince Albert coat of 
gray cloth is a single flower — the white primrose. 

“Who could believe a gentleman would descend to 
such a depth, as to treat his own cousin in this way. 
It shows he has a poor appreciation of her, confound 
liim. He takes her odd ways, her frank manner, her 
unconventional, unaffected style of doing things as a 
lack of knowledge concerning what the world calls 
propriety. The fool ! I would have given some thing 
to have seen the little lady after she read that letter. 
I can imagine her fine show of temper — not that I 
blame her a particle — I can almost see her walking 
up and down her room, with that quick, graceful 
step, her pretty face, usually so roguish, marked 
with a frown. Good Heavens! I must stop this mono- 
logue or I shall get excited myself, and at this mo- 
ment I desire to be particularly cool and collected. 

“See how the fellow struts around, and he a Vir- 


82 THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 


giiiian , and she his cousin, too. Now, let me consider 
tlie matter and lay out a plan of action. I shall wait 
a few minutes, yet, just to tantalize this fellow — kind 
of get him worked up, you know. Then I’ll descend 
upon him after the manner of the Alpine avalanche 
Senator John tells about. I’ll confront him with the 
proofs of his villainy, and perhaps slap his face, in- 
viting him to challenge me. On the field of honor I 
believe I can give a good account of myself. Should 
it come to a battle royal on the spot, these fellows 
will see some fun. At any rate, I’m determined to 
give him a lesson. ” 

Thus grumbling, the man from New York keeps 
his eyes fastened upon the other, and endeavoring 
to preserve his calmness even while he watches 
I/ivingstone grow more excited. 

At length his eagerness to be at the man reaches a 
point which will no longer be controlled. 

He draws in a big breath as though preparing him- 
self for the conflict. 

“Now!” he says, takes two steps forward, and 
comes to a sudden halt. 

“Jupiter! I didn’t take her into consideration,” 
for his eyes have fallen upon a figure descending the 
broad stairs, a figure that is cloaked and vailed, and 
yet which Bob Pemberton instantly recognizes as 
Gypsy Gordon herself, for there is that in her walk to 
distinguish her above all others. 

He feels a cold sensation creep over him — it is .as 
if his flesh had, somehow, come in contact with ice. 

What does her coming portend? He cannot believe 
that Gypsy would accept this bold invitation of her 


THE MAN WHO WOHE THE WHITE PRlMROtiE. 83 

cousin. She is daring, but there is nothing brazen 
about her. 

And yet what is he to think of her appearance 
here? She is cloaked, and wears the vail suggested in 
that letter of invitation? 

Bob inwardly groans. 

His faith in womankind will receive a severe shock 
if he is compelled to see Gypsy, in whom he already 
feels a deep interest, going off on such a questionable 
errand with this cavalier. 

Wait! 

Somehow he has a feeling that this is not yet the 
end — that Gypsy may yet surprise not only himself 
but her cousin. He has a deep and abiding faith in 
her truth, in her womanly honor, and cannot believe 
she will disappoint him so. 

He stands there, watching, and mentally praying 
that Gypsy may be held back from doing that which 
will lower her in his eyes. And while he watches she 
reaches the foot of the stairs. 

Here she stops, but it is only to look around her 
and discover where the party may be who wears the 
white primrose. 

So Bob watches, his heart in his eyes. He sees 
some one moving toward her — of course it is the 
Virginian cousin who has judged her according to 
his standard of feminine graces, and has dared to 
send such a bold letter. 

His face — Bob grinds his teeth as he sees it, for the 
eager look of anticipation there reminds him of the 
fowler who sees game actually entering his snare — 
it is smiling, bland, and apparently conscious of 


84 THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 

power, as the countenance of a handsome man is 
very apt to be. 

He pushes his way straight through the crowd, his 
eyes being riveted upon the trim little figure at the 
foot of the stairs, who awaits his coming with some- 
thing of nervousness, for Bob can see a small foot 
tapping upon the floor. 

Perhaps if Mr. Guy Iyivingsl:one could have a vague 
idea of what is in store for him, his haste would be 
somewhat toned down. Unfortunately for him, this 
knowledge is not in his power. 

Now he reaches the lower landing of the stairs, 
elevated nearly a foot from the floor. It is upon this 
the girl stands and waits the coming of her cavalier, 
waits for him as might one who expects a lover, and, 
apparently, sees nothing of the other who watches 
from a point near by, a look of pain on his face, his 
whole soul in his eyes. 

Livingstone raises his hat, but in an off-hand man- 
ner that Bob cannot but notice. He fails to show the 
deep respect due a lady. This is one of the first 
results of that accursed note — her acceptance of his 
invitation to look upon the gay sights of Denver after 
dark, has already lowered Gypsy in the Virginian’s 
mind. 

So Bob grates his teeth and makes a motion with 
his hands as though wringing the neck of an obstrep- 
erous fowl. Beyond such pantomime gestures he can 
do nothing — the power to avenge the insult offered 
Gypsy Gordon has been taken from his hands by the 
appearance of that young woman on the scene — if 
she sees fit to accept the invitation of her cousin, and 


THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 85 

trusts to his honor, why, there has been no insult 
given, and a certain individual who goes by the 
name of Bob Pemberton had better keep his fingers 
out of the fire. 

He shrugs his shoulders and begins to wonder 
where he had better go to spend the evening and 
forget all about Gypsy and her fortunes — he even 
starts to running over in his mind the various places 
of amusement that offer an evening’s entertainment 
when he notices that a change has taken place in the 
situation. 

For a minute the Virginian and his cousin appear 
to be engaged in earnest conversation — she does 
most of the talking while Guy shrugs his shoulders, 
makes eloquent gestures, with his white hands, and 
upon his face can be seen an expression such as a 
gambler might exhibit when he finds the game 
almost in his hands. 

Then the scene suddenly changes. Bob can hardly 
see how it is done, but discovers Livingstone’s hand 
upraised as though to ward something off, while over 
his face has come a look of actual alarm. 

“Jove ! she means to give him the same lesson 
Rollins and Peterman received,” Bob exclaims, for 
he has seen enough to bring that other event vividly 
before his mind. 

Gypsy Gordon again proves that she knows how to 
defend herself — that she is a girl among a thousand. 

Yes, she has drawn from under her cloak the indi- 
vidual whip which beat such a lively tattoo upon the 
shoulders of the two men who attempted arson at 
Hawk’s Nest. 


86 THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE. 


Bob holds his breath, but in his mind comes the 
thought that the man who is fated to soon make the 
acquaintance of this toy whip is to be pitied. 

The lash descends with stinging emphasis — it 
twists about the Virginian’s proud neck, it cuts across 
his handsome face, leaving a livid welt. While it 
does not whistle through the air, it seems to fall 
with emphasis. Truly, Miss Gordon has some mus- 
cular force in that nervy little arm of hers, and when 
the fires rage within it shows how dangerous any 
man may find it to offer her an insult. 

Bob pushes closer, not knowing what the amazed 
Virginian may do when he recovers from his stupor; 
the sting of his chastisement may cause Guy Liv- 
insgtone to forget that it comes from the hand of a 
girl. 

Of course, such a scene as this, happening in the 
first hotel of Denver, creates intense excitement. 

It all occurs in a minute of time, but the attention 
of almost every soul in the place is immediately 
drawn to the spot. 

As is usual in such cases, the sympathy of the 
crowd is with the girl. Perhaps this is because her 
vail has been flung back so that she may see where 
to lay her lashes, and the masculine eyes are able to 
scan her beauty. There is, however, another cause. 
In an affair of this kind men incline to take the part 
of the woman because she is the weaker vessel, and 
no woman would be using a whip upon a dashing 
Lothario unless she had wrongs to avenge. 

So, while voices are raised and even shouts can be 
heard, they are all in her favor. 


THE MAN WHO WORE THE WHITE PRIMROSE 87 

At any rate, they serve notice on the man who 
feels the lash that those present are mostly Ameri- 
cans, and that, loving fair play, they will use him 
roughly if he dares turn upon the woman who is at 
the other end of that whip. 

Ivivingstone receives a number of strokes ere he 
can collect his thoughts. Escape is the only solution 
to the problem. He might and probably would scorn 
to turn his back on a man, for he has the reputation 
of a fire-eater in his own State, but the case is 
entirely different when his opponent is a young and 
pretty woman. 

The best thing he can do is to try and lose his 
identity in the crowd as speedily as possible, and 
thus escape recognition. 

Quick as thought he wheels and, bending his head, 
makes a frantic rush for what he imagines is another 
room at the other end of the stairs. 

Almost immediately there is heard the sound of a 
tremendous collision, and the falling of shattered 
glass, for the wretched Virginian, in his mad haste to 
escape, has plunged headlong into a large mirror 
and actually shivered it with his head. 

As he staggers back, utterly bewildered, an at- 
tache of the hotel rushes up and leads the unfortu- 
nate man into a side room, where he can collect his 
scattered senses and settle the bill for damages. 

When Bob turns from watching the undignified 
retreat of the baffled Guy he has a fleeting glimpse of 
Gypsy’s figure running up stairs. 


88 


MO SIEVE MERLE, THE WIZARD, 


CHAPTER X. 

MONSIEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 

It has all passed so quickly that some of the men 
present have hardly been able to learn what the ex- 
citement is about before Gypsy vanishes up the stairs 
and Eivingstone is led, dazed and subdued, into a 
side room, after his unlucky Quixotic encounter with 
the mirror. 

The murmur of voices arising proclaims what an 
intense interest these pilgrims at the Denver cara- 
vansary take in the matter. 

As for Bob, that worthy chuckles as though he 
believes it the best joke of the season. He has felt 
very vindictive toward the Virginian, but what he 
has just seen tells him that Guy Livingstone has re- 
ceived a terrible lesson, and Bob is inclined to call it 
quits. 

He figures up on his fingers the multitude of 
disasters that have come upon that party. 

First, the stinging lashing received at the hands 
of a little woman who can defend herself, and this, 
in iteslf, is enough to demoralize even a bolder man 
than the Virginia beau. 

Second, the catastrophe with the mirror, in which 
he came out so badly — he will doubtless have a sore 
head from that battle royal for at least a day or two. 

Then again there are the pecuniary damages due 


MONSIEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 89 

the hotel proprietors, who being business men are 
not disposed to look at such matters from a romantic 
or sympathetic standpoint, so that he will have a 
neat bill to settle. 

I<ast of all, and most difficult of accomplishment, 
is the task of keeping his name out of the papers. 
The incident is bound to be given a prominent notice, 
and Guy will be lucky indeed if he can, by a liberal 
use of cold cash, suppress names. 

So Bob washes his hands of the affair, though he 
can never forget it. His admiration for the young 
girl is on the increase, and from time to time he 
gently claps his hands and mutters, “bravo” as, in 
imagination, he can see her resolutely reminding 
Cousin Guy that it is not always safe to believe that 
because a girl is lively by nature and quite unpro- 
tected, she can be insulted with impunity. 

Some one pulls at his sleeve, and turning he dis- 
covers Monsieur Merle, his wrinkled face wreathed 
in a smile, and his sage little head nodding after his 
peculiar style. 

“It was grand — magnificent!” he says, with an 
attitude of intense admiration. 

“Ah! you saw the little performance, then?” says 
Bob, with a grin. 

“I take it all in. I know zat Mr. Guy, and I be- 
lieve he got his deserts for once. Ah ! not for worlds 
would I this hour exchange places with him,” 
gabbles the French lawyer. 

“You don’t know what it was all about?” for Bob 
has even suspected that these two are in league 
against Gypsy Gordon. 


90 


MONSIEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 


“I do not know, but I can give one good guess, 
knowing zat Mr. Livingstone pride himself on being 
a man of ze worP — as I might say. He seek hei 
money — when he finds zat others are ahead of him 
in zat game he change his cards and play for some- 
thing else. I am delighted to know he got — what 
you call ’em — left.” 

Although the lawyer rubs his hands together and 
gives all the evidences of being greatly tickled. Bob 
does not trust him too far. 

He has had some experience with this class of the 
genus homo before, and cannot say that he admires 
the breed. 

“Can I do anything for you. Monsieur Merle?” 
for something in the lawyer’s manner tells him this 
meeting is not a chance one. 

“It is true — ^you can do me one favor, if you are so 
disposed.” 

“Mention it,” coldy, which does not argue well 
for the success of the Frenchman’s quest. 

“Pardon me, are you one bachelor?” 

“Yes.” 

“Without ze entangling alliance, ze promise to 
love and cherish?” eagerly. 

Somewhat puzzled. Bob replies: 

“If I catch your meaning, you want to know if I 
am engaged — is that it?” 

“Ah! you have hit it ze first pop, and what do I 
hear you reply?” 

“lam quite free.” 

“What are ze inclinations — do you ever expect to 
take ze charming wife — to change from better to 


MONSIEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 91 

worse — confusion, I mean to enter ze realms of bliss?” 
stammers the Frenchman. 

“It may be when the right one comes along I will 
try to will her,” returns Bob, slowly. 

“Monsieur, tell me, I beg, has not ze right one 
come — it is not idle curiosity zat prompts me to ques- 
tion — I have ze good of your heart at stake ?’ ’ 

Bob moves uneasily as he thinks that, after all, 
there may be more about this matter than appears on 
the surface. 

He looks Monsieur Merle in the eye. 

“What is the use of beating around the bush — you 
refer to Miss Gordon?” he says. 

The other places his hand over the region of his 
flinty old heart, bows and smiles. 

“Ze captivating Mees Gordon, who can ride a wild 
horse, shoot ze deer of ze forest, break hearts and, 
begar ! use her riding whip wiz a vengeance. Yes, zat 
is ze lady I have refer to.” 

“Well, I don’t understand how you came to pry 
into my affairs ” 

“You will bless me for it.” 

“But there’s nothing I’m ashamed of in the 
business ” 

“No, no; certain not.” 

“So I don’t mind telling you, in confidence, you 
understand, that I greatly admire the young lady, 
and if I remain of the same mind, hope to win her 
consent, some day, to be my wife.” 

“Some day — zat is a long way off — why not now. 
Monsieur Pemberton?” 

The eagerness which, in spite of habitual caution. 


92 MONiSlKUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 

shows itself upon the face of the French lawyer, 
arouses Bob’s suspicion instantly. 

He knows, full well, that men of Monsieur Merle’s 
calibre do not go around seeking to do good, without 
a deep purpose underlying it. 

Hence, while placed upon his guard, he does not 
betray his thoughts, though keeping his eyes open 
to the facts. 

“Oh!” he says, with a light laugh, offering the 
lawyer a cigar, “she would not have me — she does 
not know me well enough.” 

“Try and see. Zere are some points in connection 
wiz zis matter of which I know better zan any one 
else. Try and see, Mr. Pemberton, I give you my 
solemn word, I have reason to believe she will marry 
you by to-morrow night. ” 

Bob, in the act of striking a match, turns his head 
and looks at the other. He is startled by the words, 
pleased in one sense, and yet deeply mystified. 

“That would be the acme of happiness, but I am 
afraid you are over sanguine. Be my wife by to- 
morrow night. Great guns! you take my breath 
away, man.” 

Then Bob proceeds to rasp the match over the sole 
of his shoe, and apply the flame to his weed. He does 
not appear to be greatly disturbed over the prospect 
of so soon being a Benedict— perhaps this is, in part, 
caused by the fact that he suspects the other of a deep 
motive, and has applied himself to learning what 
it is. 

“It would suit you, sar?” 


MONSIEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 


93 


“Well, it’s a consummation devoutly to be wished ; 
but I have grave fears,” shaking his head. 

The other rubs his hands in a miser-like way and 
chuckles. 

“Begar! it shall come to pass! I have ze lever zat 
will influence Mees Gordon. All you must do is to 
pop ze question and propose to give her a protector 
by to-morrow night, I will do the rest.” 

“Why particularly then?” 

Does Monsieur Merle turn a little red — if so his 
confusion is immediately gone. 

“It must be — I was ze confidential adviser of her 
grandfather — zere are reasons why Mees Estelle 
should be married. I will tell ’em to her. All you 
have to do is to propose — Monsieur Merle paves ze 
way. ” 

“But you don’t care a picayune for me — then why 
this sudden interest?” 

The lawyer studies a minute and sees light. 

“I will tell you. Ze young lady is bound to get 
married, and I would like to continue ze manage- 
ment of ze legal business. You will promise me zis 
if I secure your happiness.” 

It is well put. 

“I could not do less,” declares Bob, frankly, 
though to himself he is saying: “Now, what under 
the sun is this old heathen up to — some deep game, 
I’d swear. To discover it I must match cunning 
against cunning, and pretend to be mere putty in his 
hands. ” 

“You promise zen, zat if you become the hus- 
band of Mees Gordon inside of a week, you will 


94 MONSIEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 

leave ze legal affairs of ze estate with ze old firm of 
attorneys I represent?’’ 

“Yes, I give you my word.” 

“Shake hands — you are one gentleman. Rest your 
mind easy, you will be a happy Benedict before 
many hours roll around.” 

“Ah! Aladdin and his wonderful lamp outdone. 
What a pity you can’t assist all wretched lovers — a 
touch of the magic wand and it is done — presto!” 

Even the French lawyer has to smile at his words, 
though, at the same time, he shakes his head. 

“Ah ! ze magic power it do not extend beyond zis 
particular young woman. Zat is where you are in 
luck, my dear boy.” 

“True, true, and what do you advise?” 

“Zat you pop ze question to Mees Gordon.” 

“When?” 

“Eet me see — at ten in ze morning.” 

“Good, I like promptness, and you guarantee that 
she will say yes?” 

“I am so sure of it as can be. I would stake much 
on her acquiescence. Remember, I shall compel you 
to make me ze promise. ” 

“Eh?” 

“To zis effect — zat you sail be marry to-morrow 
night, if she agrees.” 

“Bless you. Monsieur Merle, I will only be too 
happy. I promise to propose this to the lady — to in- 
sist upon it, in fact. What more can I do — what 
more would you ask?” 

“It is then accomplished. I give my word — I know 
my power. We will dance at ze wedding. When it is 


MOKSlEUn MERLE, THE WIZARD. 95 

over >011 sail be taken into my confidence and learn 
ze great secret. ’ ’ 

“Oh! I’m not so particular — such bliss ought to 
satisfy me. It isn’t the means, so much as the end 
that I seek, though, of course, they must be hon- 
orable. ” 

“Bah ! is zere anything wrong here — you ask ze 
lady to marry you — she accept. You press an early 
hour and say zere are business reasons; begar, she 
hold back a leetle, you persist, and she finally con- 
sent, my best of friend.” 

Dhough to himself Bob is saying: 

“Married in twenty -four hours — it takes my 
breath away and this sly rascal has a deep, a very 
deep and dark game about him which I must learn 
the nature of before it is too late. I shall be a proud 
man to have Gypsy for my own, but if by such an 
act I bring trouble upon her head, I should never 
forgive myself. Wherefore, Bob Pemberton, it be- 
hooves you to go slow and learn what the ‘motif’ 
back of this may be.” 

“And remember, I am to be ze legal representative 
of ze firm after ze consolidation — zat is to be my 
pay,” comes in the peculiar voice of the lawyer. 

“Certainly.” 

“Zere will be no such scenes as we have just wit- 
nessed. Mees Gordon will have a protector who can 
stand up for her. ” 

“I was just about to sail into him when she 
appeared on the scene.” 

“Indeed — from zat I infer zat you know he have 
made what you call an appointment wif her?” 


96 


MONiSlEUR MERLE, THE WIZARD. 


“Yes, I knew it ; picked Up a note he sent her; 
watched for the man wearing the white primrose. 
But enough — Gypsy punished the fellow for his im- 
pertinence, and I believe he will never attempt to 
harm her openly. Pardon me, I have an appoint- 
ment. ’’ 

“Remember, at ten.’’ 

“I will be on deck. Monsieur Merle. Bon soir ! ” 

Gravely they shake hands, these two who have 
just completed one of the oddest compacts ever made, 
and then separate. 

Bob Pemberton’s appointment must be one of the 
mind, or else it can await his convenience, for three 
minutes later he is engaged in the odd — for him — 
task of keeping an eye on the man who claims to 
exercise such magical power over Miss Gypsy. 


WHAT THE doctor KNEW, 


97 


CHAPTER XL 

WHAT TH^: DOCTOR KNEW. 

Bob has entirely lost his air of repose — he is thor- 
oughly awake and in deep earnest. The matter has 
gone beyond play, and become business. 

“That man has a selfish object in this affair, and I 
must discover what it is. He says he knows certain 
facts that will induce Gypsy to consent to a speedy 
marriage — perhaps some clause of the will reads 
that she loses her share of the estate in case she is 
not married before reaching a certain age.’’ 

He ponders over this. 

“Jove! I’d rather believe it to be the other way, 
and that she sacrifices all if she marries before a cer- 
tain date. That time is very close, or else old Merle 
wouldn’t be so anxious. And if this occurs he is sure 
of a big plum from some person who benefits by the 
performance. ” 

Thus Bob, by mere luck, has hit a streak of guess- 
ing that promises rich returns. He keeps an eye on 
the Frenchman, desirous of learning more about his 
movements, for it may be even possible to discover the 
source of secret power, the hidden lever with which 
he expects to accomplish such wonderful results. 

Monsieur Merle wanders around for a little while. 
He appears restless, and yet bubbling over with ex- 
citement. Now and then, when he thinks no one is 


98 


WHAT THE DOCrOR KNEW. 


looking, he figuratively shakes hands with himself, 
as though thus offering self congratulations for the 
success that has come to his cause* 

Three separate times he wanders into the barroom 
of the hotel, and treats himself to bitters, coming 
out, on the third occasion, with an air that is rather 
hilarious. 

Bob wishes he would do something or other in 
the line of business. Perhaps this priming is neces • 
sary, in order to reduce himself to a state fit for the 
emergency. 

Ah ! now he walks off, with a pompous strut, as 
might a little Napoleon. Outside he takes one of the 
waiting carriages, and is whirled through the streets 
of Denver. Behind comes a second vehicle, from the 
window of which the head of one Bob Pemberton is 
occasionally thrust, as he marks the stage of the pur- 
suit, and gives words of cheer or warning to his 
driver. 

Thus he is not far away when the Frenchman 
enters a certain house. He examines this place. 

“A restaurant, I take it. Strange that he should 
come here after leaving the hotel. He has an object 
— ah, yes, this is a rendezvous.’’ 

Then he studies the position. 

“Shall I enter — there is risk in it — I don’t half 
like the looks of the place, but how much may be 
gained by it. ” 

He has left his vehicle at the corner, the man 
agreeing to wait for him, on account of the double 
fee to be received. So Bob scouts around a bit. 

“Reminds me of college days, when we used to 


WHAT THE DOC f OH KNEW. 99 

spy upon the secret society men,” he chuckles, 
entering into the fun of the game. 

By peeping in through the glass door he sees the 
nature of the place. It is an oyster house and 
restaurant. Tables are placed in odd corners and 
niches. Bob never .saw such a queer place. 

Just as he looks in he sees Monsieur Merle, arm in 
arm with some one else go into one of these retreats, 
presumably to sit down and chat while they pretend 
to master a stew. 

Bob recognizes his chance, and entering drops into 
the next niche, orders something and sets to work, 
using his ears to the best advantage. 

He hears but a modicum of the conversation — in- 
deed, can only make out that the men are discussing 
Miss Gordon’s affairs. Once he hears his own name 
uttered by the Frenchman, accompanied by a sneer- 
ing laugh, but the man from New York mutters, 
\nnder his breath : 

“He laughs best who laughs last, monsieur.” 

Plainly he is not disturbed by the situation, but 
'ready to grasp it. 

One other point he makes — it is an address, an 
important address he understands, from the manner 
in which it is given. Bob jots it down, and deter- 
mines to see this party before he retires. 

At length the two men arise. 

“Colonel, I can depend on you?” says monsieur. 

“To the death. I’m in this business heart and soul 
— you know why. Carry out your plan, and the 
game is ours,” returns the other. 

“Is it?” mutters Bob, who hides his face as they 


100 


WHAl THE DOCTOR KNEW. 


pass, for recognition would be a sad thing just now, 
when he leads the French lawyer a chase. 

Who is the colonel, and what business has he med- 
dling with the affairs of Gypsy Gordon ? What was it 
— Colonel Corneel, the Frenchman called him. I’ll 
remember the name — perhaps Gypsy may recognize 
it — who knows? 

He passes out of the restaurant just in time to see 
them drive away in the vehicle that brought the 
French lawyer to the rendezvous. Bob gives chase 
again, and sees the colonel landed at an obscure 
hotel in the old part of the city. 

Monsieur Merle drops out of sight and Bob finds he 
has plenty of leisure time to look up the party whom 
he desires to see. 

Five minutes after nine he rings the bell of a sober- 
looking house. A servant answers the summons. 

“Is Doctor Hammond at home?” 

“Yes, sail.” 

“Can I see him ?” 

“Walk into de consultation room, sah.” 

So, with little ceremony. Bob is ushered into the 
presence of a man who is destined to have some- 
thing to do with his fortunes. He is a pretty good 
reader of character as stamped upon the human face 
— the education received in the whirl of Wall street 
is enough to sharpen man’s faculties in this respect 
at least, and make him more than a professional 
mind reader. 

Bob sees a man with a gray head, a thoughtful 
man, a student, who believes there are always new 


WHAT THE DOCTOR KNEW. 


101 


things to be found in his profession and is never too 
old to learn. 

“Good evening, doctor.’* 

“Good evening, sir. How can I serve you?” 

“Doctor, I have come here not for medical advice, 
but seeking information.” 

“Very good. Kindly proceed,” returns the other, 
showing some surprise and interest. 

“In times past you knew one Rudolph Gordon, a 
strange old Virginia millionaire?” 

“I did. For some years, in fact, until I came out 
to Colorado, I was his family doctor.” 

“So I supposed. You have heard of his death?” 

“No. Has old Rudolph gone? A queer man, and 
yet most well informed on all subjects. Wonderful 
mind he had, I assure you. What can I do for you in 
connection with this matter?” 

“Do you know the nature of his will?” 

The doctor looked fixedly at Bob. 

“I do not feel at liberty to speak,” he replies. 

“I promise to tell you the story, and you will then 
see that I am working wholly in the interest of his 
legatee. Miss Gordon.” 

“You mean Gypsy; I remember her well, a daring 
child. I believe she lives in Denver and has fallen 
heir to a fortune on her mother’s side. More than 
once I’ve seen items about her in the papers — her 
beauty, her daring and originality.” 

“On my part I feel safe in telling you the whole 
story,” which he does immediately. 

“Ah!” says the doctor, who has listened with in- 
tense interest, “quite a romantic affair, I declare, 


102 


WHAT THE DOCTOR KNEW. 


This eagerness of the French lawyer to have Miss 
Gordon marry before the twenty-first is not much of 
a mystery to me.’’ 

“Bravo!” cried Bob, jumping up and shaking 
hands with the medical man. 

“Providing the will stands that I signed as a wit- 
ness some years ago, and which Rudolph insisted on 
reading out to me clause after clause.” 

“Tell me its provisions.” 

“It left all his property to his beloved grand- 
child, Estelle — you who have seen the old man can 
enjoy the sarcasm of that phrase, ‘beloved grand- 
child.’ There was a severe condition. If she married 
under eighteen she would forfeit all.” 

Bob smiles broadly. 

“The animus is plain enough now. Her birthday 
falls on the twenty-first.” 

“It is true. I was present at her birth in Old 
Virginia eighteen years ago. Her mother died in less 
than two weeks, a sweet lady, too, and Eee Gordon, 
her father, was killed in the hunting field not three 
years later. Let me see, I have a diary of those years 
— I will ascertain what it says.” 

He goes to a bookcase, and picking out one of a 
number of little volumes, sits down again, turning 
over the leaves. 

“Here we have the entry in black and white. 
October twenty-one, stormy day — attended the wife 
of Lee Gordon, who gave her husband a fine little 
girl. Lee very much disappointed, as he wished for 
a boy to keep up the name. Child delivered as per 
jny register ^t eleyen fifty-five/’ 


WHAT THE DOCTOR KNEW, 


103 


Bob slaps his hand on his knee as a brilliant 
thought flashes into his mind. 

“Jove! I see a chance to overreach this cunning 
legal gentleman, at the same time taking advantage 
of his scheming. ’’ 

“Bet’s hear it, my boy,” says the doctor. 

“Suppose he should carry his idea out and influ- 
ence Gypsy to accept me, to even marry me to-mor- 
row night, and I should manage it that the ceremony 
came off, would she not be over eighteen years of 
age?” 

“Most certainly, ” declares the doctor, emphati- 
cally, “and I congratulate you on such a bright 
thought. If you can accomplish that, all is well.” 

“Can you give me any idea as to the manner in 
which this legal shark may influence Gypsy, so as to 
agree to a marriage. She is so independent, it could 
hardly be the fear of losing her grandfather’s estate, 
even if he entered that plea, and made out that the 
will reads just the opposite from what it does^ in 
truth.” 

“I cannot even guess, but he has some scheme. 
Perhaps he will m^ke use of you — -deplare that you 
threaten suicide unless she consents.”' 

“I trust he will not make me out such a fppl as 
that,” exclaims Bob, aghast. 

“He will probably have even a better plea — trust 
a shrewd lawyer for that. Howeyer, I see nothing 
better for you to dp than to go along with the land- 
slide, but be sure the affair occurs, if it does come 
off, on the twenty-first or later.” 

“I can depend upon you, doctor?” 


104 


WRAT TEE DOCTOR KNEW. 


“I will stand by my register, if that is what you 
•mean. ” 

“A thousand thanks, doctor. Perhaps you might 
clear up another mystery. What is the lawyer’s 
motive — who will benefit by Miss Gordon’s forfeiture 
of her grandfather’s estate?” 

“It goes to the next of kin — the nephew of 
Rudolph. ” 

“Who is he?” 

“Cornelius Gordon.” 

“Ah! I see, no — Colonel Corneel. The ‘motif’ is 
supplied. All is clear sailing, and I think we ought 
to be able to defeat the conspirators.” 

“Oh! you could do that by informing Miss Gor- 
don of the truth,” suggested the physician, slyly. 

Bob looks downcast and grave. 

“Well, you see, if I am to propose, I don’t know 
why I shouldn’t carry out the whole thing to the let- 
ter. I’m only too willing, and if this Merle has 
arranged it so that Gypsy is ready to take me off-hand, 
it would be cruel to disappoint him. No, I’ll let 
matters take their course, and only make sure that it 
is not before the twenty-first.” 

“Well, good luck to you. I like your looks, and 
wish you success. Good-night.” 

So Bob has made great progress in the game. 


NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 


105 


CHAPTER XIL 

NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 

Delighted with his evening^s work, Pemberton 
returns once more to his hotel. He believes fortune 
is playing the game into his hands, and rests on his 
oars to allow the lawyer a chance to get in his work. 

Of course he labors under a certain amount of 
excitement, which is natural enough. Affairs are 
advancing with great strides, in connection with his 
fortunes. 

The night passes, and upon the city of Denver 
dawns the twenty-first of October. It will be a day 
long to be remembered by certain parties connected 
with our story, a day to be marked with a white stone 
in their calendar. 

Bob is early astir — indeed, his rest has been very 
poor indeed, with this weight on his mind. He takes 
a walk before breakfast to settle his nerves. This 
man who has stood coolly among the howling 
cohorts of Wall street, amid the craze of a money 
panic, who has seen a fortune melt away before his 
eyes, and even laughed while it went, trembles to 
remember that on this day he must pass though a new 
ordeal — face the battery of woman’s eyes and either 
meet defeat or carry the fort. 

“Brace up, old chap — such a thing generally comes 
but once in a lifetime. It’s like the measles, I reckon. 


106 


NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAOICIAK 


Besides, if you only knew it, my boy, you’re lucky 
to have matters smoothed over, so that all you prob- 
ably have to do is to go in and win. Nine o’clock — 
another hour. Hello! thought I’d overlooked some- 
thing — my breakfast. That will consume half of the 
time or more. First occasion on record for me.” 

He is just coming out of the dining-room at a 
quarter to ten, when he sees the French lawyer en- 
tering. Monsieur Merle grins and holds out his hand 
in the peculiar style he has. 

‘H congratulate you, my dear Pemberton,” he 
says. 

‘‘Eh? You don’t mean ” 

“She loves you.” 

“I would rather get that from first hands,” and 
Bob frowns at the thought of such a queer match- 
making. 

“Pardon, monsieur, but the case is so strange you 
see. I have to discover zat so I have some foundation 
to work upon.” 

“Look here, you haven’t worked upon her sym- 
pathy — given her to understand that I would commit 
suicide unless she consented to a speedy marriage?” 

The Frenchman raises his hands in mock surprise. 

“Nevaire, I have simply told ze charming mees zat 
you loved her to distraction, and would be zere to say 
it in person at ten sharp,” 

“Good — nine minutes left yet — ^proceed.” 

“Zen I tell her certain facts connected with ze 
history of her house, and which I need not repeat 
here, zat influence her greatly. At length she say : 


NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 107 

‘If he begs very hard I don’t see how I can refuse.’ 
Ah ! my dear boy, be sure you plead well.” 

“Won’t I — well, if the case is lost it can’t be laid 
at my door, for I’m in dead earnest, and she was 
inclined to be merciful — to give in?” 

“I tell you she loves ze man zat carry her out of ze 
burning woods. It was one great streak of luck zat 
give you ze chance of your life. You see when des- 
tiny takes a hand in ze game zere is no use for any 
poor mortal plotter like zat Livingstone to come in. 
I feel sorry for zat man — he must be in a state fit for 
murder. But you seem so cool — so self-possessed — 
you who should be burning up with ze lover’s 
ardor. I do not comprehend. ” 

“Oh! there’s a good five minutes yet. Time 
enough when I face those eyes.” 

The French lawyer evidently does not mean to 
allow anything to interfere with Bob being on time. 
He has an interest at stake.- 

As the young man saunters out of the dining-room 
he steps up to his own apartment to brush his hair, 
it may be to compose his nerves for the peculiar ordeal 
before him. 

Promptly at ten o’clock Bob presents himself at the 
door of the private parlor which is a part of the ele- 
gant suite of rooms Miss Gordon occupies. He has 
been here before, and knows the place well. 

He knocks boldly — if it has been arranged that he 
should play the part of a lover, there is no reason 
why he should not do it with his whole heart, 

“Come in. ” 

Is that Gypsy’s voice, so full of fear and trembling. 


108 NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 

Bob has a little spasm of remorse — can it be that 
rascally old lawyer has scared her in some way? 

He opens the door and enters. 

Gypsy is seated in a comfortable chair — she is 
attired in a bewitching house gown, and Bob is im- 
mediately convinced that she nevei before looked 
one-half so charming. 

True, a blush suffuses her face, but back of it he 
sees the same arch look that so captivated him on 
the occasion of their first meeting. 

At her feet his astonished eyes beheld a cushion,, 
and it strikes him, all in a heap, that, knowing the 
nature of his mission, she has prepared for his com- 
ing. So he is expected to drop his knee on that and 
sue for her hand. Perhaps Bob may adopt other 
methods- — he has been known as an original fellow. 

“You look rather downcast, Mr. Pemberton. The 
morning is bracing — I hope you are not sick?” she 
says, with affected sympathy. 

“Never felt better in my life.” 

“Perhaps you have heard bad news from home.” 

“Have no home — poor orphan.” 

“Business troubles?” 

“There, you have struck it. Miss Gypsy. I am 
worrying over the details of a new business. I am 
thinking of entering upon a sort of partnership 
affair. ” 

The audacious fellow actually enjoys seeing her 
cheeks suddenly flush crimson at his significant words ; 
but she keeps her self-possession. 

“It is too bad you have cause for such worry. 
You are bold by nature ; why don’t you untie the 


^'0W IT 16 BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 


109 


Gordan knot as Alexander did, with one stroke of 
your sword. ” 

“That is why I am here — to ask your assistance.” 

“Can such an insignificant creature as I am be of 
any assistance to a man in distresss over his 
business?” 

“Yes — you can decide the partnership matter.” 

“I— oh, Mr. Bob.” 

“You remember our strange meeting and how 
much I owe you for saving me an encounter with 
that ugly old panther.” 

“Stop! you repaid that obligation, ten times over, 
when you carried me out of the blazing forest. I will 
not hear you speak of being in debt to me.” 

“Very good. Now, about this partnership business 
— will you promise to help me all you can?” 

“Willingly.” 

“It may tax your good nature. ” 

“Oh! I think I can stand it,” turning her face 
away. 

Bob sees his opportunity — in an instant he is be- 
side the little beauty — he speaks quietly, yet with an 
eagerness in his voice that thrills the girl. 

“Gypsy, the success of my business venture de- 
pends upon you — I want you for my partner. Words 
are weak to express my meaning. I love you — have 
loved you with all my heart and soul from the mo- 
ment I first set eyes on you in the wilderness. The 
danger we shared together made us better acquainted 
than years would have done in the ordinary manner. 

“I have believed that this deep passion in my heart 
has aroused a responsive chord in yours. If I am 


no 


NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 


wrong, send me about my business, but at any rate 
relieve my anxiety at once.” 

He goes right to the point like the brave man tliat 
he is. Although the temperature of the room is cool 
and pleasant. Bob is in a feverish state, and, taking 
out a handkerchief, wipes his forehead. 

The girl looks at him rather roguishly. 

“Are you sure you are free, Mr. Pemberton?” 

“Positive.” 

“To how many other girls have you said the same 
thing?” 

He ponders. 

“Not more than seven, I am dead certain” — then, 
as she throws up her hands in horror he adds, with a 
quizzical smile — “and they were in my younger days, 
when I was about half way between boy and man. 
Seriously, Gypsy, I have, since reaching man’s, 
estate, never breathed a single word of love in the- 
ears of a maiden — I have been wrapped up in my- 
business. It is a serious affair — I feel that the point 
in my life has come when I must choose for weal or- 
woe. I have selected — it is for you to determine my- 
fate. Will you be my wife, Gypsy?” 

Since she expects it, he drops on one knee beside 
her — she does not turn her face toward him for fear 
lest he should see how pleased she looks and it might; 
make him conceited, but her little hand creeps out,, 
and he seizes upon it, 

“Do you wish it very much. Bob?” 

“With all my heart and soul, dear girl.” 

“Then — I refuse your offer!” 

“What?” gasps Bob. 


JfiOW IT IS BOB, TUB MAQICIAI^. Ill 

The little hand is snatched from his grasp with a 
sudden vim, and at the same moment her face con- 
fronts him — she has hard work trying to stiffle the 
love that exists there, and the frown is pretty much 
of a failure. 

All the same it is enough to alarm poor Bob, and 
almost send him into a chill. 

‘‘I refuse to be a party to a bargain— I believed 
you to be the soul of honor — I — -I confess I care for 
you too much for my peace of mind, but I will 
stamp it out,” she says, with a fierceness that is 
assumed to cover up her weakness, for she is on the 
verge of crying. 

“No, no, you must not — you shall not. You have 
confessed that you love me — by that token I claim 
you as my own — I will allow nothing to come be- 
tween — you belong to me, ’ ^ he exclaims, aroused at 
last. 

“But you have not — not — been honorable. You 
have entered into a conspiracy with Monsieur ” 

“I beg to differ with you — he thinks I have, but I 
am against him. I will prove it to you. At the same 
time, as I loved you, I could not resist the tempta- 
tion to accept the situation, as it seemed to push my 
suit. I understand he had some reason, some power 
which he held above your head, and that you would 
consent to a wedding to-night.” 

She gives a little gasp. 

“Yes, I agreed to that — if you knew all you would 
not blame me; but I rebelled at last, when I thought 
you must have conspired with him. Since you say 
you are not his ally ” 


112 


NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 


“I am his most deadly foe, if he but knew it.” 

“Then I might reconsider,’’ she murmurs. 

“Ah! you raise my hopes again. You said ‘I 
refuse.’ ” 

“I repeat it — I refuse.” 

“Gypsy!” 

“That makes twice — you know two negatives 

j ) 

“Make an affirmative. You mean yes?” 

She nods her head. 

“Oh, Bob, please don’t,” but Bob is not to be 
balked, and he has her in his arms, this eccentric 
Miss Gordon, who astonishes and charms nearly all 
with whom she comes in contact. 

Presently he is influenced to be rational, and sit 
down, but only her promise to share the sofa with 
him, which she coyly does after smoothing her 
ruffied plumage before the mirror, influences the 
ardent lover. 

“You promised Monsieur Merle, and I am going to 
keep you to it,” he says. 

“Do you really mean it — so sudden — I am in a 
whirl — 1 cannot realize that I have promised to give 
up my independence so soon.” 

“You shall be just as independent when you are 
my wife as when single. I have reasons for desiring 
this step,” he says, soberly. 

“You wish it, sincerely?” 

“Ido.” 

“And you won’t think any the worse of me on 
account of my yielding?” 

“I will bless you as long as you live for so freely 


NOW IT IS BOB, THE MAGICIAN. 113 

giving me the treasure of my life. Tell me you con- 
sent, and then I will explain what I have learned of 
this Frenchman’s motives.” 

She gives him her promise, and Bob — well, having 
thus made sure of that point before relating why it is 
not necessary for Gypsy to marry at once, he seals 
the contract with a kiss. 

Then he relates his adventures of the previous 
evening — how he followed Monsieur Merle and en- 
deavored to overhear his dialogue with the mysteri- 
ous Colonel Corneel in the chop house, and, later on, 
his conversation with Doctor Hammond, with regard 
to Rudolph Gordon’s will. 

“Oh, Bob!” says Gypsy, looking at him somewhat 
reproachfully, “then it is not necessary for me to 
marry to-night — you know this ” 

“Yes, but I loved you and was only too glad to 
accept the sweets the gods had awarded me. You gave 
me your promise — see^ I allow you to take it back 
— if you wish. ” 

She looks into his eyes — the eager lovelight there 
charms her — she gives a little sigh of satisfaction 
and nestles closer to him, murmuring: 

“Dear Bob, I am very well content,” at which the 
wretch smiles in consciousness of his power. 


114 


(SENATOR JOHN'S SECRET, 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SENATOR JOHN’S SECRET. 

The rest of the day Pemberton spends in making 
various arrangements. When a man has entered into 
a compact to marry that very evening it is only nat- 
ural for him to look around and see that his affairs 
are in ship-shape condition, at least so far as the 
hurried nature of the circumstances will admit. 

He makes arrangements, finds out when the night 
train leaves for New York, and engages a stateroom 
in the sleeper, which is pretty good evidence that 
he means to leave Denver. 

Senator John is taken into the secret, and proves 
a valuable coadjutor, for it seems that some one is 
watching Bob, and he imagines the French lawyer, 
to make sure of him, has put a man on his track. 

Several other little things are done calculated to 
confound the conspirators when they attempt to 
spring their little trap, and as the day declines Bob 
rests on his oars, satisfied that he has matters just as 
he wants them. 

Gypsy is in full touch with him, and enters into 
the spirit of the affair with increasing vim, as though 
she really enjoyed it all, so that, in the end. Bob 
congratulates himself on having such a neat arrange- 
ment. 

So night comes. 


SENATOR JOHNS SECRET. 


115 


Bob meets Monsieur Merle before supper — lie ex- 
pects to, and has Senator John at his side, so that the 
conversatioH cannot become very personal. The 
Frenchman shows impatience — his very look, as he 
fastens it on Bob, is an inteirogation point. 

At length he can restrain his feelings no longer, 
but bursts out with : 

“Ze twenty -first day of October was beautiful. If I 
was about to take to myself a wife zat iz ze time I 
would select for ze wedding.’’ 

“Indeed!” remarks Senator John, looking at Bob. 

“What do you think, Pemberton?” 

“I have the same idea myself — if ever I marry this 
is the day I shall select,” responds the other, gravely. 

“It seems to me that I can even smell ze orange 
blossoms in ze air — zat some one shall invite us to a 
leetle ceremony this very night. I am most sure such 
will be ze case. What sail we say. Monsieur John? 
We do not want zat to find us unprepared, parbleu ! ” 

His humor is irresistible, especially since Bob is 
feeling very happy on this, his bridal eve. 

He bursts into a quiet laugh. 

“Merle, you’re a sly dog — bound to get an answer 
out of me, ain’t you? Well, I’ll tell you the truth 
— you are invited to a little ceremony.” 

“When?” snaps the other. 

“To-night.” 

“Zen ze game is won!” exclaims Merle. 

“I reckon,” replies Bob, dryly, and his words have 
more meaning than appears on the surface, although 
the other does not see it. 

Senator John, fearing lest questions may follow 


116 


SESAT'Jli JOHN'S SECRET. 


that it will put liis friend in a hole to answer, 
changes the conversation in a skilful manner. The 
lawyer beams like a full-blown rose — he rubs his 
hands joyously now and then, as though he can 
hardly restrain his satisfaction. Why not, when he 
has reason to believe everything is working to suit 
him? 

The meal is finished. 

“When and where sail we meet to witness zis 
charming little affair?” asks the lawyer. 

“I have made arrangements with the dominie of 
the little church around the corner.” 

“Every city have one. In New York ze actors zey 
all are married zere. ’ ’ 

“The parson will be waiting at half-past eight, in 
the parlor of the church. We will soon be subjects 
for congratulation.” 

“You are one lucky man — you win a beautiful 
wife — you step into a fortune already made. Mo7z 
Dieu ! I would zat I was born lucky,” with a groan, 
and a shrug ; then he clutches Bob’s arm and drags 
his head down until he can whisper in his ear: 
“Did you have any trouble, mon ami — was my part 
of ze work well done?” 

“Excellently,” returns Bob. 

“And you will never forget me?” 

Pemberton turns and looks him in the eye. 

“Never, my dear friend, while I live. You have 
done me a service, whether it was intended as a per- 
sonal favor or not, and for that I could even forgive 
many things. This night takes me to the goal I have 


SENATOR JOHN'S SECRET. 


117 


longed to reach. Come and rejoice with me, Monsieur 
Merle.” 

“Pardon — could I also fetch a friend — one who is, 
in a measure, interested in the outcome of zis busi- 
ness? I would not intrude, but ze parlor of a church 
— it is, in a measure, public ground.” 

Of course Bob knows who this friend is as well as 
though Monsieur Merle had called him by name — 
Colonel Corneel is indeed interested in the outcome 
of the intrigue, though not in the way the French- 
man would infer. 

vStill, the policy of Bob Pemberton is to keep his 
own counsel in this respect. He does not wish to 
open his batteries until the proper time comes, and 
the enemy has unmasked his fire. 

“Bring him along — I may have a friend or two 
present myself. If he is interested in our little 
business, well and good,” he says, carelessly. 

The lawyer smiles and rubs his hands. 

“At half-past eight — ah! I will be on hand, my 
dear boy, to see you enter ze realms of bliss. Mon 
■Dieu I you are one exceedingly lucky man,” and 
smiling and nodding he goes to his feed. 

Bob eats as well as usual. If he is to be married 
in a couple of hours that is no reason why he should 
go hungry. He has always made it a practice to pay 
attention to these details, and thus his health is 
good. 

A few minor details remain. 

Senator John joins him at the table, and gives his 
report. He has done his duty, and nothing has been 
neglected, Bob can rest assured. An old traveler 


118 


SENATOR JOHN '8 SECRET. 


like the Senator, so well versed in railways and 
their peculiarities, is just the one to manage a busi- 
ness like this, and Bob is well pleased with what he 
tells. 

From the table the two friends repair to their room 
to finish packing. 

They have but a valise apiece, for this visit West 
was only a hurried business one at best, so their lug- 
gage is light enough. 

‘‘All aboard !’’ sings out the Senator, at eight, 
and then grasps his companion’s hand with a look 
the other cannot fathom. 

“Bob, old fellow, you know my sentiments — I’m 
with you to the end in this affair. 

“From hints which you say Miss Gordon has let 
fall concerning this business, I’m afraid our troubles 
will not end to-night, even if we do confound this 
old Frenchman and his backer.” 

“My dear fellow, I confess I am of the same opin- 
ion myself, but nothing can be done — we must await 
the turn of events. Gypsy’s desire to head East im- 
mediately is of course influenced by the news I 
brought her. She will confide this secret to me when 
she is ray wife, and then we will know what we have 
to meet.” 

“Yes, and at present it is like fighting in the dark. 
However, all I meant to say was that you could 
depend on me always.” 

“I knew that before you spoke, old boy,” warmly. 

“And if you will listen for five minutes and forgive 
me for speaking, let one who once had a dear help 
meet, but has been a lonely wanderer for many a 


SENATOR JOHN'S SECRET. 


119 


year, give you some brotherly advice, at this the last 
half hour of your bachelor life.” 

“Five minutes you say — willingly dear John. I am 
amazed at one thing — I thought you an old bachelor 
— you never breathed your secret.” 

A spasm of pain crosses the other’s face. 

“And only that I love you, Bcb, as my own 
younger brother, I would not speak of it now. It is 
because I believe the brief recital of my story may 
profit you and your wife that I unseal my past for 
this five minutes. Please never allude to it again.” 

A warm clasp of the hand tells that Bob’s heart 
beats in sympathy ‘with him. 

“It was — let me see, nearly twenty years ago. I 
was then just thirty, well-to-do, successful as a law- 
yer, fairly good looking, and possessed of a rather 
quick temper. 

“Fate threw me in the way of Ruth — ^we met in a 
singular way — I loved her passionately, wooed and 
won her. I need not tell what a fight I had to get her, 
for she had another determined suitor, a country 
squire, who exhausted every means to defeat me, 
even going so far as to prejudice her father, the 
dominie, against me. 

“But I won at last — she loved me devotedly — an 
elopement followed — we were married and her father 
never forgave me for it. 

“We were very happy. Bob — a child came to bless 
us, a dear little thing so like its mother. My business 
began to worry me some, and I became testy. One 
day the strain caused me to have hot words with my 
wife — she was in the right — I suspected it, became 


120 


SENATOR JOHN’S SECRET. 


sorry, worried all afternoon, and when I could shake 
off my business at night hurried home. 

“I found a cold house — empty — he groans at the 
remembrance — “at first I thought it was her father’s 
work— then I remembered that Ruth had intended 
going with a neighbor upon some sort of a picnic — it 
was on a boat. A terrible thing flashed before me. 
While hurrying home I remembered hearing the 
newboys shouting an extra — there had been some 
sort of accident to an excursion boat which had sunk 
or burned up. Horrified, I rushed out wildly and 
found a newsboy. The accident was a frightful one — 
two dozen people had been killed — the boat was 
burned and not a name mentioned.” 

Senator John bows his head and there is silence 
for a moment, during which Bob’s hand steals out 
and grasps that of his friend, to give it a squeeze 
that comes from the heart. 

“I shiver to think of those days I- spent trying to 
find my dear one’s remains — those horrible sights 
have haunted me ever since. When it was found im- 
possible I was taken away by a friend — an attack of 
brain fever followed our arrival at a country place, 
but death passed by. I lived to know sorrow — to 
mourn over the terrible fact that my last words with 
my dear wife were those of anger, the only time I 
had ever spoken save in love to her. 

“Enough, dear boy — take warning from the years 
of suffering I have endured — let no cloud come be- 
tween the one you love and yourself. I have broken 
the seal of secrecy which has been upon my lips for 
many years, believing, hoping that I might save you 


ENTER MRS. BOB. 


121 


from the same fate. Come, it is time we started. 
God bless you and yours, Bob Pemberton. A strange 
light is before me — I pray it may bring me peace.’’ 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ENTER MRS. BOB. 

Bob is mystified by these words. 

They leave the room together, and Bob is more 
than ever drawn toward this genial friend, who, to 
serve him, has opened this cruel wound of the past 
and brought new suffering on himself. 

After waiting below a little while, who should ap- 
pear but Miss Gordon and her maid — the former the 
cynosure of all eyes, since those in the office know 
she is the little woman who dared use a riding whip 
over the shoulders of a man who had in some way 
insulted her. 

“Why, it looks as though you were going for a 
walk, too,” she says, aloud. 

“We are — allow us to accompany you,” returns 
Bob, entering into the subterfuge. 

So Bob takes Gypsy and leads the way. Only a 
block or so and they turn a corner coming to a small 
church. There are lights within. They enter. 

The dominie is waiting, and as all legal forms have 


122 


ENTim MRS. BOB. 


been complied with, there is nothing to delay the 
ceremony. Several parties are present — some mem- 
bers of the officiating minister’s family, and a couple 
of gentlemen who seem to prefer remaining in an ob- 
scure corner, though one can easily be recognized by 
his figure as Monsieur Merle. 

Bob looks around a little anxiously and then 
smiles, for another gentleman has quietly entered the 
door and makes a motion with his arm that is meant 
to be reassuring. 

“Are you ready, my dear?” Bob asks. 

“Yes — let me summon some of the nerve you said 
I possessed, but I declare it must have been a sham, 
for I’m shaking all over. Let me have your arm for 
support — you know I must lean upon you after this. 
It will soon be over — it only happens once in a life- 
time with most people. Bob, don’t look so awfully 
serious — smile — be yourself, or I shall become hys- 
terical,” whereupon, in obedience to this request on 
the part of the one whom he loves so well, the happy 
groom indulges in a forced grin that hardly becomes 
him. 

Truth to tell, it is a very serious business with Bob 
— he has always fought shy of weddings, because he 
sincerely pitied the couple before the altar, they 
generally appeared to suffer so much. 

Besides, he has every reason to believe that cir- 
cumstances have gathered which will make this a 
crisis in the affairs of Estelle Gordon. Her interests 
are now his, and the uncertainty hovering over the 
whole issue gives him something to worry about. 

They advance to the parson, who has a low whiV 


ENTER MRS. BOB. 


123 


pered conversation with the couple desiring his ser- 
vices, after which he glances around, perhaps more 
from habit than anything else. 

“Let it be understood by those who are gathered 
here to-night that this man, Robert Pemberton, and 
this woman, Bstelle Gordon, have come to me to be 
united in the holy bonds of matrimony. 

“I can find no reason why I should not, by the 
power invested in me, make them man and wife. If 
any one present knows of any such impediment let 
him speak now or forever hold his peace.’’ 

Here the usual awful pause occurs. 

The dominie looks at each of those present in an 
inquiring way, but none of them make a sign save 
the French lawyer, who seems very much concerned 
lest something in his manner may be construed into 
a belief that he of all men may attempt to raise a 
barrier before the couple, for he shakes his head in 
the negative with a vehemence that threatens to 
dislocate his neck. 

Gypsy’s hand tightens on Bob’s arm — he moves a 
little and looks down into her face with what is 
intended as a reassuring smile. 

The minister begins the ceremony, which he 
makes very short, and presently declares them to be 
man and wife. 

As soon as this has been spoken. Senator John 
steps forward to congratulate them. He kisses the 
bride tenderly. Bob has just had time to bend down 
and snatch a kiss from the lips of his charming little 
wife, when something occurs to attract the attention 


124 


ENTER MRS. BOB. 


of all, something that is not down on the bills, but 
which has a close connection with the game. 

Monsieur Merle seems to be unduly excited — he 
and his tall companion are seen to be shaking hands 
vehemently. They are evidently now in a frame of 
mind such as results from full confidence of victory. 

“It is one grand occasion!” says the lawyer, aloud. 

“We’ve won beyond a doubt,” replies his com- 
panion, in a bold way. 

Parbleu I I do feel like ze grand hurrah — I am 
bursting to give one shout.” 

“Gentlemen, what does this mean?” says Senator 
John, surveying the boisterous pair in affected surprise. 

Monsieur and colonel exchange glances. 

“Shall we speak, my dear colonel?” 

“Why not? I’m secure now — nothing that can be 
done will change the case. Yes, inform them all why 
you and I enjoy this hour — tell them of the clause 
in old Rudolph’s last will and testament that makes 
me his sole heir.” 

How grandly he says this, as though by the stroke 
of a pen this adventurer, who has fought hard times 
for many a year, has suddenly come into a grand 
fortune. 

“Yes, tell it — we are of course amazed, and would 
be glad to hear the particulars,” says Senator John. 

Monsieur Merle throws his chest forward and 
asumes a theatrical attitude. 

He is conscious of being the observed of all. 

“Zen listen to zis, my friends, my fellow citizens 
of zis great and glorious country. Rudolph Gordon 
he makes a will — since zen he die. By zat last will 


ENTER MRS. BOB. 


125 


and testament, which I have ze proud honor to exe- 
cute myself, he leave everything to his beloved 
niece, Estelle, on condition that she do not marry 
until of age — if she take ze husband before zat time 
she lose all, and it go to zis gentleman, her uncle, 
Cornelius Gordon.’’ 

Gypsy gives a sudden cry, and starts forward as 
though she would confront the lawyer, but Bob 
restrains her, whispering : 

“Patience, dear — I knew all this — wait and see 
how we confound the rascals.” 

Senator John is the spokesman. 

“Well?” he says, as Monsieur Merle pauses. 

“Ze case is plain — if zis young lady — pardon, 
madame, I mean Mrs. Pemberton, has wait till to- 
morrow when she will be eighteen, under ze will of 
her grandfather she come into all of ze estate — as she 
have married before coming of age she forfeit 
everyzing. ” 

The lawyer looked around him as though conscious 
of having done a great stroke of business while his 
companion smiles as a man can afford to who has 
won all. 

“Pardon me for interrupting, but it happens that 
I chance to know something about this matter, 
seeing that I officiated at the birth of the bride.” 

The solitary stranger steps forward, and Monsieur 
Merle looking closely at him, exclaims: 

^^Mon Dieu ! it is ze Doctor Hammond.” 

“Ah! doctor, tell us, if you please, what you know 
about this case. Perhaps these gentlemen may be 
glad to receive some information that will tell them 


126 


E^TER MRS. BOB. 


we have not been asleep/’ remarks Bob’s best man, 
whose turn it is to smile. 

“With pleasure, gentlemen. It seems there is a 
mistake of a day in this business. Even the lady has, 
all her life, deceived herself — she has labored under 
the impression that her birthday is the twenty-second 
of October, when, in truth, the previous day is the 
time. 

“Sacre!” cries the Frenchman. 

“Humbug!” exclaims Cornelius. 

“Nevertheless, gentlemen, this fact can be proven. 
The child was born at ten minutes to twelve on the 
night of the twenty-first, and is so recorded in my 
official report on file in the proper quarter at Rich- 
mond. I do not know how to account for their mis- 
take, except that the father and nurse paid no atten- 
tion to time for an houi or so afterward, and natur- 
ally fell into the error of believing that the child’s 
birthday was the twenty-second.” 

It is Bob’s turn to beam now, and he smiles upon 
the baffled conspirators as though he believes in the 
old adage that he laughs loudest who laughs last. 

As for Merle and Colonel Corneel, consternation 
has taken the place of satisfaction — they stand there 
utterly demoralized, gaping at each other in a stupid 
manner. 

The decided way in which Doctor Hammond has 
spoken tells them he means every word, and that his 
decree effectually disposes of their case. 

For the time being they are beaten— whether such 
men will give up the game at once is a question the 
future must decide. 


ENTlLli MRS. BOB. 


i27 


“Gentlemen, have you any further questions to 
ask — we cheerfully hold ourselves at your service to 
answer such,” says Senator John. 

Monsieur groans and makes a suggestive shrug 
that speaks volumes — Colonel Corneel looks crushed. 

“Merle, have we any m.ore business in this court?” 
he demands, hoarsely. 

“I do not believe. ” 

“Then let’s get out.” 

Turning to Bob, and ignoring Senator John com- 
pletely, the adventurer says : 

“Pemberton, I give you credit for playing a 
shrewd game. To all appearances you have won, but 
perhaps I haven’t thrown up my hand yet. You will 
hear from me again, sir.” 

With which the ex-soldier turns on his heel after 
a stiff military salute, and strides toward the door of 
the chapel. 

This time it is Bob who endeavors to make a for- 
ward movement, and his wife who holds him back — 
the tables are turned. 

“Never mind, dear Bob — let him go. Words are 
cheap, and, after all, we can afford to let him have 
that satisfaction. Do you know that you belong to 
me now, sir?” 

Of course Bob is ready to acknowledge his depend- 
ence, and in his great happiness feels that what she 
says with reference to the other is true. 

“All aboard for the East!” sings out the Senator, 
as they issue from the chapel a little later; he en- 
deavors to throw off all the weight that is on his 
mind and seem cheerful, for Bob’s sake. 


128 THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXPRESS. 

So they enter a vehicle in waiting near by, and are 
carried to the station. Denver will soon be left 
behind, and a new era in their affairs open up. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXPRESS. 

When the East-bound night express pulls out of 
Denver, those whose fortunes we have followed are 
sungly settled in the through sleeper, Bob and his 
wife have the stateroom and Senator John has secured 
a berth near by. 

He takes a stroll through the train — says it is his 
usual custom, and yet Bob knows full well he has 
some particular thought in view. When he comes 
into the comfortable stateroom a little later, the 
train is bowling along at a rapid rate, and the night 
air proves quite chilly. 

Senator John smiles to see the tender solicitude 
with which Bob tucks a heavy traveling shawl 
around the little form of his wife, but it is a smile of 
deep satisfaction, for under his breath the Senator is 
saying : 

“Would to Heaven they could always be just as 
happy as they are now — that no shadow would come 
between them ; but I know that is impossible, for 
trouble comes sooner or later to all. With such love 


THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXP HESS. 129 

ill their hearts, they may steer clear of the rocks that 
shipwreck so many.’’ 

Bob, discovering the presence of his old friend, 
looks closely at him and says : 

“Well, what discovery have you made. Senator?” 

“I’ve found out where the silverware is hidden.” 
“Eh?” 

“At least I’ve run across a couple of spoons.” 

“Oh, Senator!” exclaims Bob’s wife. 

“Come, now, no joking. You wouldn’t have it 
otherwise,” says that worthy, blushing under his tan. 

“Heaven forbid — it is as it should be.” 

“But you have discovered something else, ” persists 
Pemberton. 

“What makes you think so?” 

“Oh ! I’m used to reading faces, you know, and if 
ever one bore a secret, it’s yours.” 

At this the old traveler laughs. 

“You’ve shot pretty near home. Truth to tell, I 
have made a discovery — ^severalof ’em — a whole nest, 
in fact,” with an air of mystery. . 

At this Mrs. Bob sits bold upright. 

“They are on board this train.” 

“Well, that word is rather ambiguous — it covers 
a great deal of ground, and yet I believe I can really 
answer yes — they are with us.” 

“They — all?” cries Bob. 

“Eet me see — in this car I found a lady — she cov- 
ered her face with a vail, but was not quick enough 
to keep it frojn my eyes, and I recognized one whom 
I had seen at Hawk’s Nest as your aunt.” 


130 THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOVND EXPRESS. 

“Josephine Armitage going East on the same train 
— it looks cloudy,” remarks Gypsy. 

“In the car beyond, two confreres are seated, with 
a table between them, having a friendly little game 
of euchre. This in the smoking department.” 

“That must be the bright little Frenchman, Mon- 
sieur Merle, and our Uncle Corneel,” says Bob, 
nodding. 

“Which concludes the list,” from his wife. 

“Not quite. There is another sleeper back of us. 
The berths are nearly made up. As I passed along a 
head was thrust out, a hand clutched me by the arm, 
and a voice well remembered said, “Porter — oh! beg 
pardon — confound the luck!” 

Bob laughs heartily. 

“Of course that was ” 

“My dear Virginia cousin, Guy Eivingstone, ” his 
wife puts in, sweetly. 

“Bless my soul, this train must be made up of 
Gordons for Gordon ville. Are there any more of our 
friends, the enemy, on board. Senator John?” 

“I believe that completes the list, though perhaps 
I might add to it. There was a fellow in the day 
smoker put me in mind of the fellow Miss — I mean 
Mrs. Bob punished so thoroughly at the lodge in 
that vast wilderness — one Ralph ” 

“Oh, come, now. Senator, you’re stretching it a 
point too far. I beg a halt. You’ve already given us 
a list that might demoralize most people. Evidently, 
there is little of accident about this matter and plenty 
of deep design. We are not through with our troubles 
yet.” 


TEE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXPRESS. 131 

‘‘I wonder if ’’ begins Gypsy, and then sud- 

denly stops short, looking at Senator John in a way 
that tells Bob she has been on the point of making 
some reference to her secret. 

He will not ask her about it — she must tell him of 
her own free will, all in good time. 

“What do you think of it, John?” asks Pemberton. 

“Well, I am inclined to believe there is little of 
accident about the matter, though, of course, it 
might be so. lyet’s take Colonel Corneel and the 
lawyer for an example — they were floored at the 
church, but may have seen a way out, as they 
believe. ” 

Bob frowns. 

“Can you give a guess as to what they may have 
struck?” 

“Well, let’s look into the matter. How was it we 
turned their case upside down? By the introduction 
of good Doctor Hammond and his evidence regarding 
the mistake in the birthday of Mrs. Bob. His word 
— it would not have been sufficient, but he declares 
it is supported by documentary proof — that his report 
is filed at Richmond in the Register of Births.” 

“Jove! I begin to smell a rat!” cries Bob. 

“You will, before long. In my opinion, they are 
now on their way East ” 

“On to Richmond, you mean.” 

<‘Yes — to examine that same Registry of Births. 
If Doctor Hammond has been mistaken then the 
game is in their hands. On the contrary, should he 
prove to have been right, they must either throw up 
the sponge or go at something else.” 


132 THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXPRESS. 

“Then I see what must be done — I have a friend 
at Richmond, one Joe Hooker. I can depend on him. 
When we reach St. Louis I shall wire him and 
receive the answer at Cincinnati.” 

“To what effect — I see you grasp the situation?” 

“He will proceed to the office where this registry 
of birth is kept, with a notary public, and make a 
copy of the entry by Doctor Hammond, which the 
notary will witness and swear to being correct.” 

Senator John slaps his hand down upon his knee 
with a sudden emphasis. 

“Bob, I see your brain is as bright as when you 
are in the swim at the Exchange. Your suggestion is 
a good one — I don’t see how it could be improved. 
Even if these rascals manage to destroy or change the 
record we will have it in black and white. Yes, get 
the dispatch ready — spare nothing — have it explicit 
and we are bound to win.” 

“I will write out a draft of it, John, and perhaps 
two heads will prove better than one.” 

“All right — when we reach St. Louis it will be 
ready to send.” 

“Plenty of time — this is a long trip,” says Bob. 

It does not occur to one of them that there is any 
need of haste — the plan is so bright, and success 
seems so sure, that they cannot imagine such a thing 
as fail, forgetting that they have opposed to them an 
unscrupulous French lawyer, than whom a harder 
being does not exist. 

So they allow themselves to rest in the lull of the 
storm— -during the night none of them feel any 


THE FLIGHT OF THE EASI-BOUND EXPRESS. 


133 


worry because of the fact that enemies are on board 
the cars — all will be well. 

The train makes remarkably good time while they 
sleep, and is well on the way to St. Touis when they 
get up in the morning. 

Putting their heads together they soon construct a 
long message to Mr. Joe Hooker that will cover the 
case in all its bearings. This, Senator John, who has 
been an operator in his time, volunteers to get in at 
the office when they pull into St. Louis. 

Unexpected delay comes — there is a wreck on the 
road ahead, and they are flagged. There they lie for 
hours, awaiting the clearing away of the debris. 
There is no station near, and so the monotonous 
hours pass away. Fortunately they have a hotel car 
on the train, and the passengers are not yet reduced 
to a state of actual hunger. 

As Americans usually do under such circumstances, 
they take it all good naturedly and joke over the 
situation. Some even go forward to the scene of the 
wreck and assume entire charge of the work — at 
least, they bustle around with a great sense of im- 
portance and give orders to which no one pays the 
slightest attention. 

They tell us that all things have an end, although 
one could mention a number that give little promise 
of such a heavenly consummation. At any rate, this 
delay does not last beyond a certain number of hours, 
and then, at nightfall, the track being cleared, they 
once more move on, though at a snail’s pace for a 
long time. 

Thus it is morning when they reach St. Louis. As 


134 THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXPRESS. 

all are in the same boat, our friends do not worry 
about the matter. 

Quite a lengthy stop is to be made here, and this 
gives Senator John a chance to hie away to the tele- 
graph office in order to send the message in his pos- 
session, the composition of which does himself and 
Bob such credit. 

He comes back to the car a short time before the 
train moves out. 

“Hello!’’ cries Bob, “whence these tears?” for 
the usually urbane Senator is actually frowning. 

“I don’t know positively, but I have a lingering 
fear there is some trouble in store for us,” he says, 
softly, noticing that Mrs. Bob is bending over her 
satchel ; but she has quick ears, and instantly raising 
her head, looks him squarely in the eyes. 

“Don’t keep anything back on account of me,” 
she says, smiling— “my husband will tell you I have 
a fair amount of nerve, and I believe it is best that 
the worst should be known.” 

“And I reckon you are right, my dear. I shall not 
try to keep anything hidden from you.” 

“You sent the message. Senator?” 

“Yes, Bob, and saw that it went all right myself, 
for you know an old operator never loses the hang of 
the thing. That brings up the source of anticipated 
trouble. ” 

“Yes — did you meet any one there?” 

“Two of them — no more nor less than the French 
lawyer and our ex-Confederate colonel.” 

“They were telegraphing, too?” 

“Yes, in a cipher to some one at Washington. Of 


THE FLIGHT OF THE EAST-BOUND EXPRESS. 135 

course, I could not make it out, but from their sus- 
picious actions, when they saw me enter, I am ready 
to swear it had some connection with the registry 
book at Richmond.” 

‘‘Just as like as not!” exclaims Bob, uneasily. 

“I hope they haven’t been ahead of us, ” says his 
wife, “for much as I have already from another 
source, I would hate to see the old Gordon place 
pass into the hands of such a man as Colonel 
Cornelius.” 

“After all, we may be borrowing trouble — cross- 
ing bridges before we come to them.” 

“And as we are on our wedding journey, we can’t 
afford to let such things worry us. We’ll make up 
our minds that all is well, and leave the rest to a 
higher power. ” 

“Ah ! we move — now it is on to Cincinnati, then 
over the Blue Ridge to Richmond.” 

So the city on the muddy Missouri is left far be- 
hind and they start to meet the sun in his daily 
journey, plunge along all day, and reach Cincinnati 
about dark. 

Another night and day and they will be in Rich- 
mond, with everything favoring them — then the 
result of their telegraphing will be made manifest. 

Bob it is this time who makes inquiries, and pres- 
ently meets an official who hands him a sealed en- 
velope. A minute later Pemberton enters the car, 
and holds a message aloft. 

“Good news, I prophesy,” cries Gypsy. 

“No one could mistake that broad grin on Bob’s 
face. From your friend at Richmond?” 


136 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


“Yes — only a line or so — listen,” he reads: 

“Yours received — I will attend to the little matter 
at ten in the morning. JOE Hooker.” 

As it turns out, had this same Joe Hooker set his 
time just an hour earlier, it would have been 
decidedly better for our friend’s peace of mind. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 

After receiving this message Bob seems to rest 
easily — he has great confidence in the ability of Joe 
Hooker to carry out any scheme. 

From Cincinnati they cross into Kentucky, and 
follow the river up for many miles. During the night 
they push in among the rugged hills of West Vir- 
ginia, and with the peep of dawn look out upon some 
of the most remarkable scenery in the country, for 
the valley of the New River, like that of the Emery, 
the French Broad, and other mountain streams, 
presents some picturesque sights. 

Thus, as the day wears on, they advance upon 
Richmond. The course to-day is hardly to be com- 
pared with what it was twenty-eight years ago. 

Then frowning cannon greeted the eye on all sides, 
and a hostile people, armed and desperate, met the 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. ' 137 

intruder, while the sights and sounds of cruel war 
were on every hand. Now all is peace and plenty — 
the lion and lamb lie down together and the only 
smoke to be seen comes not from gory battle-fields or 
burning towns, but from the cabins of the freed 
blacks or the engine that hauls their produce to 
market. 

Virginia, mother of our country, is herself again, 
and may she never again know the ruin of a civil 
war. 

“Another hour will see us through — are you tried, 
my little wife?’^ says Bob, as the day closes, and the 
sun sinks out of sight. 

“Oh, no, I was thinking, that’s all.” 

“Of what?” 

“A variety of things connected with our fortunes. 
You can’t do my thinking for me. Bob, though you 
are so very kind with everything else. When a girl 
gets married she has plenty to think about, I assure 
you. Perhaps it’s my wardrobe I’m thinking about,” 
with a light laugh. 

Bob chooses to believe differently, but he does not 
say so. He is convinced that this secret, which has 
not been confided to him by his wife, is the cause of 
her anxiety. 

“If she does not volunteer to tell me before long I 
shall feel compelled to ask about it for I can’t see 
her troubled about anything, ” is what he says to 
himself, sitting there and watching the various lights 
and shadows flit over her face. 

A good start. Bob Pemberton — if you show as 


138 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


much solicitude over the comfort of your wife twenty 
years hence, you will do. 

Richmond at last! 

All in the car are preparing to leave, and it is easily 
seen how the trials of a long journey are forgotten 
when the port is reached. Even a lady who has been 
seasick all the way recovers almost magically, and 
smiles — she is home and her troubles are forgotten. 

Senator John shows up, and as soon as the train 
stops our friends pass out. Presently they are in a 
vehicle and making for Ford’s hotel. Bob is anxious 
again — he has given instructions in his dispatch to 
have his friend Joe meet him here, but can see no sign 
of him. 

While at the desk registering, he is given a sealed 
envelope, which he thrusts into his pocket for the 
moment. When they are in their rooms he suddenly 
remembers this and opens it. 

^‘Why, it’s from Joe — listen to what he says.” 

“Dear Old Boy: — Received your dispatch — 
have been called away this p. M., and so can’t meet 
you on arrival, though I may later. As I promised, 
at ten o’clock I went to the office of registry, taking 
with me a friend who is a notary public, and whose 
sworn document I inclose. 

“I conceived an idea that I imagined might prove 
pleasant to you — and while there took a photograph 
of the page bearing the entry you mentioned. This 
I at once developed upon reaching home, and if the 
plate is dry, before I go away will strike off what we 
call a ‘blue print,’ and inclose it with this, so that 
you may see for yourself what it is. 

“My heartiest congratulations on your marriage — 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


139 


I know there is a story connected with it, and will 
take great pleasure in hearing it. Perhaps I can also 
tell you one that may equal it, as a strange thing 
happened to me of late. I shall also be delighted to 
meet Mrs. Bob. Please give her the regards of your 
old chum. Joe Hooker.” 

“That is all?” asks Gypsy. 

“Yes. Just written as Joe talks. He’s a fine fellow, 
and I shall be glad to shake his honest hand again.” 

“Was there an inclosure?” asks Senator John, 
who has lingered a few minutes ere going away, 
lingered because he saw Bob receive the letter and 
could guess who sent it. 

“I didn’t see any — wait, where’s the envelope — it 
may have stuck inside — sure enough,” and he draws 
out a piece of paper white on one side, blue on the 
other. 

It is a first-rate fac-simile of the page of a book 
covered with writing. 

“Here it is, as plain as daylight.” 

“Read it out,” says the Senator. 

“Parents’ names — Richard Harding Gordon, Ruth 
Alymer Gordon, Child girl, probable name Estelle. 
Physician, Oscar Hammond. Date of birth ” 

“Go on — what ails you, man?” says John. 

“Good Heaven! it was a terrible mistake, after 
all. Doctor Hammond made,” says Bob. 

“Explain your words.” 

“This date is October twenty-two.” 

“Are you sure. Bob?” 

“Look for yourself. Senator.” 

There can be no mistake about it — the writing is 


140 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


as plain as print, and the figure two stands out 
boldly. 

“Sure enough, I was right, after all, about my 
birthday. There’s some satisfaction in knowing that 
I haven’t been making a goose of myself all along,” 
says Mrs. Bob, so calmly that her liege lord turns 
and looks at her in amazement. 

“Bless my soul, Gypsy, it’s a pleasure to see you 
take it so coolly. On my part I’m not worrying over 
the money part of it so much as I am the fact that 
we have been outgeneraled.” 

“You hit the mark, my boy,” declares Senator 
John, who has his fighting blood up, and ready to 
join in any game that promises success. 

“Yes, outwitted, for I don’t believe Doctor Ham- 
mond made any mistake in the matter.” 

“Oh! Bob, with even tliis evidence before you, 
and still a sceptic,” says his wife. 

“Yes, I’m dogged by nature — I simply believe Joe 
came in too late. The telegram Tawyer Merle sent 
from St. Tonis was an important one, and it gave 
orders that 'vvon the game thus far. Look, my dear, 
you have sharp eyes — you can see that the second 
figure two is not like the first one — the shank is far 
too long. One makes his figures pretty much alike, 
but this man seems an exception to the general rule. 
I will tell you why. That figure was of another 
order — a plain one. Then a pen was drawn over it, 
transferring it to that which you see. Lawyer Merle 
has a willing tool and a sharp confederate here, but 
this time he overreaches himself.” 

“Now you inspire me with hope, dear Bob.” 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


141 


“What! Knowing me so well, could you think I 
would give up the fight so easily? That isn’t my 
nature — I never could have battled among the bulls 
and bears in the stock pit unless I had good staying 
qualities. This is only a beginning. They may think 
they have won, but I’ll soon startle them.’’ 

“In the first place,’’ says Senator John, soberly, 
“if this figure has been altered within twenty-four 
hours an expert can readily detect it, for the re- 
mainder of the entry was made eighteen years back, 
and the ink is very aged. I have no doubt but what, 
with certain chemicals, this new figure can be re- 
moved, leaving the original in plain view. Such low 
cunning as this generally overreaches itself.” 

“It does me good to see you gentlemen take it all 
so good naturedly,” remarks Bob’s bride. 

“Come, now, you are joking. I don’t know how I 
look, but I feel like biting a nail in two. To think 
of that sly little French frog-eater laying a trap to 
trip me up, while we journeyed on in the full belief 
that the affair was settled. However, the laugh will 
yet be ours. ” 

Such confidence is half the battle in a game like 
this, and both of those who hear his words are 
inspired by their boldness. 

“I can help you. Bob. By rare good luck, I have 
a friend in Richmond who has always prided him - 
self on being an expert at reading character by the 
handwriting. Yes, I’ve known him to be even called 
to New York to testify at some trial where millions 
were at stake. He claims to be able to tell the state 
of mind a person was in when he wrote the names. 


142 


JOE BOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


It’s astonishing how much these experts do know. 
Give me the letter and the blue print. Immediately 
we have dined I’ll look up Josh Geddings, and get 
his opinion. If necessary, I’ll take him to the reg- 
ister’s office and let him examine the original. At 
haphazard, I believe I can promise you an encourag- 
ing report. ” 

“John Archer, you are a friend in need. God bless 
you, my dear fellow. We will be down ” 

“In ten minutes,” finishes his wife, and that set- 
tles it, for Mr. Bob smiles and nods and Senator 
John makes a break for his own room to wash up. 

Promptly when the ten minutes are up, they meet 
below and enter the dining-room. The trip has at 
least not taken away the good appetites they brought 
from the Colorado plateau, and it seems to be a 
merry party that surrounds a little table at one end of 
the long dining-room. For the time being they seem 
to forget the business that demands such close atten- 
tion, and appear to be a merry party of travelers. 

They notice that others have come to Ford’s to 
make their headquarters. Monsieur Merle and his 
employer. Colonel Cornelius Gordon, eat at a table 
near by, and watch our friends carefully. Bob im- 
agines that he can see the same old sneer on Corneel’s 
face that a man may assume when he feels conscious 
of power, of success, when the wheel of fortune 
which he worships suddenly throws the tide in his 
favor. 

Senator John has passed the word around that 
they had better not notice the others, and so they 
continue to chat, and appear so unconcerned that 


JOE HOOKER IN THE ARENA. 


143 


the two men imagine they cannot know what a set- 
back has happened to their plans. 

John Archer keeps his word. As they leave the 
dining-room he says to Bob: 

“I’m off now to see the expert — give you his re- 
port when I return. Meanwhile you can be happy in 
the company of Mrs. Bob. Ah ! my boy, you were a 
lucky fellow to draw such a prize as that in the lot- 
tery of life. I have seen so much of sorrow that it 
does my heart good to find friends thus united in 
such charming unity, soul responding to soul.” 

He squeezes Bob’s hand, bows to Mrs. Bob, and is 
gone on his errand little suspecting what strange 
things this first night in Richmond is destined to 
produce. 

Bob sends his wife up on the elevator and steps to 
the counter to buy some of the cigars for which this 
capital of the Old Dominion is famous, when, as he 
lights one, he is seized by the arm. 

“Joe Hooker, by the powers!” he exclaims. 

“Joe Hooker, with strange news for you. Bob, old 
fellow,” returns the man whose hand he clasps. 


144 


ADVICE— AT ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 


BOOK THREE. 
Following Destiny to New York. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ADVICE — AT ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 

Senator John, at eight-thirty p. m., rings the bell 
of a modest house not a stone’s throw from the his- 
toric old church in which Patrick Henry delivered 
his passionate protest against the tyranny of taxation 
without representation, and declared that death were 
preferable to such liberty. 

Having ascended the hill, Bob’s stanch friend 
is almost out of breath when the door opens and 
light shines upon his face, coming from a lamp held 
in the hand of a man who, at sight of him, threatens 
to have an epileptic fit, or drop the means of illumi- 
nation as he wrings John’s hand, dragging him into 
the house. 

“Remarkable — just received your letter from Den- 
ver this A. M., and, behold! the man I have imagined 
among the wild beasts of the mountains turns up at 
my door in the night. John Archer, there is more 
than accident in this.” 

The Senator laughs. 


ADVICK-AT ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 


145 


“It’s all a part and parcel of a deep design, my dear 
Josh. I’ve a story to tell.” 

“Then sit down right there. What can I get you 
— are you hungry?” 

“Just come from dinner at Ford’s.” 

“Thirsty?” 

“Couldn’t drink a drop, my dear fellow, but 
since you are pressing ” 

“Ah! you will have ” 

“A smoke — I have never forgotten the sweet taste 
of your tobacco.” 

“Good. And I know you delight in smoking it 
from something foreign to an ordinary clay pipe. 
Tastes differ — prefer the latter. There’s that Hindoo 
hubble-bubble affair upon the wall, or will you use 
this Turkish chibouque.” 

“That’s the one Abdar Pasha gave you once for 
saving his life,” caressing the amber mouthpiece and 
examining the precious wood with the reverence of 
an old traveler. 

“Yes, fortune gave me an opportunity to do the 
brave old Turk a favor — I value that thing quite a 
good deal. Fill the bowl and light up, man. I’m with 
you — the sweetest smoke on earth to me is had in 
this red vessel made of Indian pipe clay. Comfortable, 
Senator John? Then suppose you fire away.” 

So John Archer begins. 

There is no reason under the sun why he should 
not tell Josh Geddings the whole affair as he knows 
it, and before twenty minutes have gone by the other 
is in possession of the facts. 


U(3 ADVICE- AT ONE DOLL AD A MINUTE. 

He proves to be a good listener and asks a few 
questions at points that seem hazy to him. 

“Quite a novel, my good man ; and so your friend 
Bob has already carried off the princess. Good. I 
shall be pleased to meet them both at their con- 
venience.’’ 

“I can readily guess why I am wanted in this case. 
Bring on your documents and I’ll be only too glad to 
give you a professional man’s advice.” 

Whereupon Senator John claps in front of him Joe 
Hooker’s communication. He carefully reads the 
letter first. 

“A bright idea of Joe’s, to photograph the page. 
Fine fellow, never met him — bless me, it will be a 
treat for you two travelers to get together and com- 
pare notes. And the stacks of fine views he has 
taken the world over — thousands of queer scenes. 
Jove ! I never grow tired of looking through the glass 
at them myself. ” 

“But the blue print.” 

“Pardon — never grow tired of talking. Senator. 
You know my failing, old fellow. Hetmesee — where 
are my microscopic glasses?” 

He fusses around, produces a lamp with a power- 
ful reflector, that sends a strong stream of light upon 
a certain spot on the table, puts on a pair of odd 
glasses, and scrutinizes the print. 

Almost immediately he utteis a snort of disgust. 

“Such a bungling job — the idea of an expert’s 
opinion being called for such amateur work. Why, 
even this blue print shows plainly what has been 
done. The ink used to make a two out of a figure 


ADVICE— ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 147 

one is of a different shade. Senator, have no worry 
about this matter. You can confound the rascals as 
easy as — you smoke my chibouque.” 

Thereupon the said Senator John rises from his 
seat, waves his Turkish pipe above his head, and 
gives a genuine hurrah that a schoolboy might envy. 

“Beg pardon, Geddings, but you have lifted the 
clouds. It isn’t simply the million at stake we care 
about, but the principle of the thing, you know.” 

“Yes, the million is a mere bagatelle compared 
with it — always was with me — that is, some other 
person’s million, for I never could get more than 
the first thousand started of mine. Make your mind 
easy about this thing. It is so easily detected that 
they have no show whatever. See here. I’ll tell you 
what I can do — with a move of the hand wash off 
this new layer of ink and leave the original just as it 
was. ’ ’ 

“I suggested that to Bob, and he was incredulous. 
You see, he didn’t know you — hadn’t read all the 
accounts of your skill as shown in many trials — see 
yonder scrapbook for particulars. He will have a 
better opinion of your abilities when you have dem- 
onstrated what a magician of the nineteenth century 
may do. ” 

Then they fall to talking of future plans — Josh 
Geddings promises to visit the register’s office in the 
morning, have the page in question carefully cut out 
and taken in charge by the official until wanted — 
this in order to prevent the lawyer or his confed- 
erates from destroying it. 

Other talk follows. 


148 


ADVICE— ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 


It is eleven before Senator John can tear himself 
away from the society of Josh Geddings and that be- 
loved chibouque and wends his way in the direction 
of the hotel, filled with satisfaction over the thought 
that he has accomplished the business he set out to 
perform. 

Senator John does not dream that he has been 
watched by the shrewd lawyer, but such is, in fact, 
the case, for Monsieur Merle has followed him all 
the way from the hotel. 

As Josh Geddings has a small nickel sign on his 
house, announcing his business as expert at chirog- 
raphy, it does not take the keen-witted Gaul half a 
minute to guess what is in the wind. 

Perhaps John Archer has been gone five minutes 
when a ring at the bell brings Josh once more to the 
front door. As he sees the party who thus summons 
him, he instantly says to himself : 

“Ginger! this is no other than Monsieur Merle, 
for the accurate description given by the Senator, 
aided by his own remarkable powers, enable him to 
thus recognize his caller. 

Geddings is a Yankee — hence it may be understood 
that he is sharp enough to meet the lawyer and fight 
it out then and there on that line. He gives no indi- 
cation that he sees before him any other than a total 
stranger. 

“Pardon, do I address Monsieur Gedding?” 

“I’m the party — what can I do for you, sir?” 

“I wish to consult you on important business.” 

“Please step inside.” 


ADVIGE-ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 


149 


So the spider walks into the little parlor of his 
rival. 

He is made comfortable, and glances around. The 
air is thick with tobacco smoke. 

“Do you object — I have a window a little way 
open, and I can throw it wide?” 

“No, no, do not, I beg. Better the smoke than to 
catch the death of cold. Besides, this smoke is 
pleasant — you use good tobacco — and smoke two 
pipes at once,” as he sees the chibouque on the table 
still warm, for his fingers have touched it. 

Josh smiles and removes his clay pipe with thumb 
and finger. 

“Oh ! I had company — an old friend popped in on 
me and we chatted over days gone by,” he remarks, 
in an off-hand way. 

“Such meetings are charming — zere is so much 
to say. But, monsieur, I have one leetle business 
with you. I understand you are what you call ’em a 
professor of chirography — zat is, you know all about 
ze handwriting on ze wall.” 

“I see you are a humorist, my friend. My business 
is in dealing with forgeries. If I do say it myself, I 
have made some hits in that line, and my prices are 
away up on that account. My testimony has been 
known to save a million.” 

“Begar! all I want is one leetle advice you would 
give zat for ” 

“Ten dollars for ten minutes’ time.” 

“It ees done, zere is ze money. Now, I note zat it 
just is twenty minutes after eleven; Until half past, 
Monsieur Geddings, you will talk and listen.” 


150 


ADVICE- ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 


“Good! Delighted to do business with such a 
precise man ; wouldn’t mind sitting up all night.” 

“At one dollar a minute — excuse me. Pardon — pay 
attention, monsieur — I relate a little experience to get 
ze opinion of a man who saves millions.” 

“For others, and almost starves himself.” 

“At one dollar a minute — Mon Dieuf such star- 
ing I would like to do for a year — I should feast ze 
rest of my life. To business, as time flies, and ze 
dollars with it. Zere is one man we will call John 

“John — who?” asks the professor, quickly. 

“Oh — John Smith will do to distinguish him.” 

“Is there any Pocohontas in this game?” 

“Not zat I know of — you, too, are a man of 
humor. So much ze better — you will live long. Zis 
John Smith is in my employ — I am a merchant — I 
have ze great counting-rooms with one dozen clerks. 
I import ze champagne, zat makes ze young man’s 
head whirl if he takes too much. 

“I receive a note without a name — it tell me zat 
John Smith is living beyond his means. I am aroused 

— I set ze detective on his track — what do I find 

begar! Ze young man ees married on ze sly — he has 
a fine establishment and a carriage. All zis on fifteen 
hundred a year in New York. Bah! impossible; but 
perhaps he marry a rich girl. I am unable to find zat 
out — ze detective can learn nothing. 

“So I change ze game; I have an expert examine 
ze books. Zey balance, but he is puzzled over cer* 
tain figures. What I desire to find out, in plain 
language, is zis. If figures have been alter a long- time 


ADVICE ONE DOLLAR A MINUTE. 151 

after ze originals were made, would it be an easy 
thing to discover zis fact?” 

There it is in plain English. 

Josh Geddings has made up his mind to deceive 
the lawyer — he does not want Monsieur Merle to 
imagine that he knows him. Therefore he elevates 
his eyebrows in surprise. 

“A singular coincidence, I declare. Another party 
consulted me on about the same line this evening. I 
will tell you just what I did him — that it all depends 
on circumstances. If the ink used was the same, and 
several other matters neatly adjusted by the forger, 
it would be difficult, and under some conditions, well- 
nigh impossible to detect the fact, especially to prove 
it before a jury. ” 

Monsieur Merle smiles and rubs his hands together 
— then remembering the part he plays he frowns and 
looks quite despondent. 

“I am afraid zen we will have to call you in. Mon- 
sieur Geddings — at one dollar a minute. I would not 
wrong an innocent man.” 

“Ah! I honor you, sir. ” 

“Nor do I wish to keep a thief in my employ. I 
see ze ten minutes are up” — as the French clock 
strikes the half hour gong — “and I will depart. 
Rest assured, you sail see me again.” 

“Delighted to know you, Mr. ” 

“Pardon — Anton Du Quesne, at your service.” 

And thus putting the seal to the great elaboration, 
the French lawyer bows himself out, leaving Josh 
smoking his red pipe and looking up through the 
white rings as he mutters: 


152 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


“The little beast suspects — he will be up to more 
deviltry. At nine the registry office opens. Good ! at 
eight I will see my friend the register, and together 
we will defeat the cunning of Monsieur Merle. ” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 

Joe Hooker’s face is one that would attract atten- 
tion almost anywhere, it is so honest and bright. He 
seems serious enough, when uttering the words that 
greet his friend Bob, and that worthy is rather 
startled by their tenor. 

“News of what, Joe?” he demands. 

“Come over here to this quiet corner, where we 
can have a chat. ” 

“I wouldn’t care to remain too long away from 
Mrs. Pemberton,” says the dutiful spouse — he has 
just been married a few days. 

“Oh, she’ll forgive you when she learns what kept 
you. Accept my congratulations in advance, my dear 
fellow. Come.” 

“I promised her ” 

“This affair concerns a certain family by the name 
of Gordon, and I believe that was what your wife 
was called before she became Mrs. Bob. If there is 
anything you desire to have explained in connection 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


153 


with that family, accept what the gods throw before 
you now. ’ ’ 

That settles Bob. 

We know there is a mystery connected with Gypsy 
that has given him considerable cause for worry, and 
with this chance for enlightenment before him, it 
would be strange indeed if he did not accept. 

He accompanies Joe to the corner designated, 
where several chairs invite occupancy — goes with an 
eager air, and not as a lamb to the slaughter. 

“Now, see here, theie’s no need of my beating 
around the bush. I’ll get right at the heart of the 
matter in the start. Your wife’s name before mar- 
riage was Estelle Gordon?” 

“It was, positively.” 

“Granddaughter of a man whom half of Virginia 
knew, and who went by the name of Hermit Gordon 
— given name Rudolph?” 

“Correct again.” 

“Perhaps you saw an account of his death in the 
papers a couple of weeks ago.” 

“Ten days rather — no, I didn’t see it, for at the 
time I was on my way to Denver on business con- 
nected with this same Rudolph Gordon. I knew he 
died, for a telegram reached me to that effect.” 

“Well, there was a mistake made,” coolly says 
this same Joe Hooker, just as if he were saying, 
“it’s a lovely night. ” 

Bob Pemberton, however, is not in the same con- 
dition of mind, and from his lips falls an expression 
indicative of intense surprise. 

“Look here, Joe — I chanced to run across the 


154 


J FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


faithful servant who attended him, and not half an 
hour ago had a brief description of the funeral/’ 

“Oh, ay, there was a funeral.” 

“Yet you have the assurance to say ” 

“Bob, I’ll tell you the story in newspaper re- 
porter’s style, and you can round out sentences and 
fill in to suit yourself. After I had attended to your 
business I went out of the city — had an engagement 
with a gentleman, old friend and patron of the pub- 
lic offices he has held. Found him in a feverish state 
of excitement — had sent for me to share his secret. 

“When I heard it I was astonished — amazed — 
could hardly believe my ears. He brought proof — 
piled it up mountain high. My scepticism vanished, 
and I was ready to accept it all as so. 

“His story — well, it ran about like this. Man of 
very peculiar habits — near him was a cemetery, and 
in it lie the remains of several very dear to him. 
General is something of a night hawk — says thought 
flows more freely with him when darkness covers the 
earth. 

“It has been a habit of his to wander in the old 
graveyard after nightfall — singular fad, wasn’t it, 
Bob. He w^as there one night a week or more ago, 
when he thought he heard a groan. Sure enough, it 
came from one of the grim old tombs. 

“Most men would have taken to their heels and put 
for home — I believe you would — dead sure with 
regard to myself. This general is made of different 
stuff — proves it by taking his constitutional in a 
graveyard at night. 

“What did he do — why, made a rush for that 


par- 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE, 


155 


ticular tomb, found the grated door unlocked, and 
actually burst in. ’’ 

“Jupiter! I must meet the man who did that,” 
says Bob, with deep admiration in his voice. 

“Wait — when inside he struck a match — the 
sounds came from a new casket — he discovered some 
sort of tool, pried off the lid, and — his match went 
out. 

Bob groans in sympathy. 

“Upon lighting another he found an old man be- 
fore him, alive — groaning — snatched him from the 
casket and carried him outside, slamming the door of 
the vault behind. 

“The general chances to be a strong man — never 
would have been able to have carried that burden 
otherwise — got him to the house — kept it all a dead 
secret — day by day the old man grew better — never 
will be strong again in body, but mind as clear as a 
bell. By degrees story told — general feels he must 
confide in some one or he will die — remembers me — 
Providential thought, since I know you.” 

During the pause Bob is lost in amazement, 

“Joe, do me a favor,” he gasps. 

“Well?” 

“Pinch me — I believe Pm dreaming.” 

“Not much — you’re wide awake, old man, and in 
a measure primed to hear more,” says Hooker, in a 
nonchalant way, though secretly chuckling, for it is 
really a treat to see Bob Pemberton, cool Bob, all 
broken up. 

“What! is there more — did the whole graveyard 
yawn and graves give up their dead?” 


156 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


‘‘Oh! no. That chapter is closed. There’s another. 
It will surprise you quite as much as this.” 

“Wait till I give you a puff at this weed. Now, 
brace up — I’m ready to let her go. 

“It seems to me fortune is rolling on thick and 
fast — if I had half such luck always I’d join you in 
Wall street. All these things happened within six 
hours, too, which is the queerest part of it. 

“When I had heard the general’s story, we talked 
it over, and decided what we should do. You are to 
go with me and see the old man who calls himself 
the Gordon, and identify him, after which the case 
will be placed in your hands. 

“I left the general to return to Richmond by train. 
Had a rough time of it, quite a little wreck, and 
several injured. Fortune saved me any bruises and 
broken bones, and I set about rescuing the afflicted. 

“Thus it happened that I came in contact with a 
young woman, quite good looking, who had a 
broken limb. I carried her from the cars to the 
nearest house. She was crazed with pain, and be- 
lieved death was about to claim her for a victim. 
She raved, even while I had her in my arms, pleading 
for mercy. 

“I paid no attention at first until she mentioned a 
name — it was that of your wife — that which I had 
photographed and made a blue print of. Then my in- 
terest was aroused — I listened, believing I was' doing 
right and serving you. 

“So I learned the young woman whom I carried 
from the wreck was a Gordon, too — a daughter of our 


A FIGHT WITH FOBTUNE. 


157 


doughty Colonel Cornelius, so well known in Rich- 
mond, but believed to be a bachelor. 

‘‘She had been tempted to visit the register’s 
office, examine the books, and make an alteration.” 

“What?” says Bob, mechanically, for he is so ut- 
terly confused by this unexpected rich treat of good 
things that he is hardly able to believe his ears. 

“ Yes, this Blanche Gordon thus confessed, in her 
agony, that she changed a figure in the birth entry 
of your wife — she had yielded to temptation, and 
conscience accused her. 

“Very fine girl she appears to be, and I have been 
quite smitten with her, in spite of the fact that she 
is a daughter of Cornelius Gordon. I’ve about con- 
cluded to enter the lists myself, and make your wife’s 
uncle acknowledge this young creature.” 

“Hello! leans that way, eh?” 

“Nonsense — purely philanthropical, I assure you. 
Glad to do any one a good turn.” 

“Funny thing,” persists Bob. 

“What?” 

“If, after all, we, who have been so thick in the 
past, should marry cousins.” 

“Just your luck. Bob, old boy, to get the heiress. 
Now, you’ve heard my story — let’s have yours.” 

“First, where is Blanche Gordon?” 

“At the hospital, in the pay department. I saw her 
taken there myself, and ordered that nothing should 
be lacking in their care of her. She will not commu- 
nicate with any one else. Now, spin your yarn, for I 
know it must be a queer one.” 

Bob does so, beginning with his visit to Virginia, 


158 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


the meeting with Rudolph Gordon, and his trip to 
the West. Other events follow — he is a fairly good 
narrator and the subject is such that he can do 
justice to it. 

Joe is thrilled. 

“Quite a romance — and to think how neatly you 
played your part in securing a wife. Well, I quite 
envy you, Bob, seeing that you are happy. Take me 
to Mrs. Pemberton.” 

“On one condition, sir.” 

“Well,” repeats Hooker, “what is the condition on 
which you will allow one to meet your wife?” 

“That you don’t fall in love with her,” says Bob. 

Joe Hooker laughs. 

“To confess the truth, my dear boy, I’m afraid I 
have received an electric shock under my vest from 
a blue-eyed battery. You see she moaned so pitifully, 
and clung to me when I carried her, that it quite 
touched my heart ” 

“Nonsense — never knew one more tender. In plain 
English, Joe, you’ve jumped into love. Well, it’s a 
common fate when one Bob Pemberton gets into the 
mess. Say no more, but come with me.” 

“To Mrs. Bob” — they all fall so naturally into 
this habit of calling her by that name. 

“Yes.” 

“See here, do you want me to tell her all?” 

“Everything. ” 

“But she is a woman — a feeling of horror might 
come over her — she might faint ” 

“Come — you are speaking of no ordinary milk and 
water woman. Gypsy Gordon never winced when she 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


159 


faced that panther and the sea of fire — she met the 
emergency when those two rascals sought to destroy 
lier property, and you remember I told you how she 
avenged an insult at the hands of her cousin, Guy 
Ivivinsgtone. ” 

“Not another word. Bob. You make me more than 
ever anxious to meet this remarkable woman. I am 
ready to go. ’ ’ 

So, a few minutes later. Bob knocks at the door 
of the little parlor that is a portion of their suite of 
rooms. 

“Enter,” says a voice that is music in his ears. 

“Joe Hooker, my love.” 

Gypsy meets him with a frank shake of the hand 
that quite charms Joe, and he quickly realizes that 
his friend has hardly exaggerated the case when he 
described his wife with the enthusiasm only an 
ardent lover could show. 

Then they settle down to a long talk that touches 
all the minor points of the game. Gypsy proves that 
woman’s wit is keen by bringing out several things 
the others have not considered. It is good policy to 
have various minds engaged, as the whole ground is 
covered. 

While they are still enjoying their chat a knock 
sounds on the door, a timid knock. Bob opens and 
finds Senator John there. 

“Hope I’m not intruding,” begins this worthy, 
when Bob grasps him by the arm and drags him into 
the room. 

“Just in time — we’ll go over it all again, and you 
shall tell us what success you had,” declares Bob, 


160 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


after Joe and the Senator have gravely shaken hands. 

“Oh ! my friend, the expert, has no doubt in the 
world the figure was altered, “ says Archer. 

“And my friend, Joe Hooker, has just carried out 
of a railway wreck the party who confesses to hav- 
ing committed the said alteration, ” at which Sena- 
tor John throws up the sponge, confessing himself 
beaten in the very first round. 

Then they take pity on him, and tell him all, 
which, of course, astonishes him not a little, and 
gives him great pleasure. 

“It beats everything I ever knew,’’ he says, as he 
grasps Bob’s hand and squeezes it, as though in this 
way he would express his congratulations at the turn 
affairs have taken. 

Then a council of war follows, and a plan is laid 
out by means of which they may hope to outwit the 
enemy. Every one has a part in it, and all enter 
into the game with a determination to succeed if it 
be possible. 

At midnight they separate. 

In the morning Senator John makes his way to the 
home of the register, the State officer who keeps an 
account of the numerous documents and books on 
file. It is fortunate he is personally acquainted with 
this official, or he would never have been able to 
secure the favor he did. 

Together they proceed to the office an hour be- 
fore the time of opening and take the volume con- 
taining the disputed entry to Josh Geddings. The 
expert is glad to see them, and immediately dashes a 
rag, soaked in some liquid, upon the writing. When 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE, 


lei 

he takes it off, a minute later, every remnant of the 
new ink comes with it, while the old remains intact. 

At this Senator John gives vent to his satisfaction 
in a shout — he sees the figure one in place of the 
artificial two. 

“Take notice, gentlemen, there is the date. Make 
a note of it on paper,” he says. 

“I can do better that that — I have a means of 
reproducing the whole page in detail,” said Josh. 

“Excellent — how long will it take you?” 

“Not more than fifteen minutes.” 

Senator John consults his watch. 

“That gives us time to get back to the office. 
Shall he go on, Mr. Register?” 

“Certainly. I am quite interested in this matter, as 
strange a case as I ever knew. Reproduce the page, 
both sides of it, and then, if the page should, by any 
means, be destroyed, we will be able to replace it.” 

So Josh Geddings sets to work, and the others 
watch him curiously. His ingenuity promises success 
— he does not explain his method, but within less 
than the stipulated time he holds up two papers. 

“Will that do!” he says, quietly. 

The others examine his work and pronounce is 
excellent — indeed it covers the ground completely, and 
they have only praise for it. 

“Now I will return to the office and put the 
volume where it belongs. During the day we have 
many visitors, and, if possible, we will watch to see 
if any one attempts to mutilate it.” 

So saying, the register leaves them. Senator John 
is desirous of getting back to Bob, and also bids his 


1G2 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


friend good-by for the present. Those counterparts 
of the pages in the book will yet confound the rascals 
who scheme for the Gordon estate, if they try to 
work their little game. 

Arriving at the hotel, he finds Bob absent, and sits 
down to await his coming, pondering over the odd 
things that have come to pass in the romantic his- 
tory of the past few weeks. Strange what a ruminat- 
ing creature a man becomes, once he gets a good 
cigar or a beloved pipe between his teeth. Senator 
John seems to see a picture of the whole past spread 
out in the wreaths of blue and gray smoke that curl 
so lazily upward from his weed. 

Then his eyes fall upon a face he knows, and he 
comes out of dreamland to stern reality — earth and 
bother. It is Joe Hooker, and theie is a look upon 
his face that the Senator analyzes for trouble ahead. 

“Where’s Bob?” is his first question. 

“Out somewhere.” 

“Sorry for that. Want to see him the worst kind, 
and make some new arrangements.” 

“I thought we decided all that last night.” 

“Ah! Senator, our caucus is overthrown. Fate 
has knocked us out,” says Joe, with a long face. 

“What! is the old man dead, aflier all?” 

Hooker shrugs his shoulders in a comical way and 
says: 

“Really, I could almost wish he were. Instead of 
that, he is too much alive — in plain Hottentot 
English, he’s taken French leave.” 

“Gone to his own place at Gordonville?” 

“Well, it’s rather an open question that will have 


A FIGHT WITH FOBTUNE. m 

to be decided by investigation. Perhaps it may be so. 
One thing I have learned gives me cause for consid- 
erable worry, Senator.” 

“Tell me if you care to, Mr. Hooker.” 

“The enemy have got wind of his presence above 
ground — Heaven alone knows how. When I asked 
at the door for my friend, what was my surprise to 
have the servant who recognized me say there had 
been some one inquiring after the sick old gentleman 
just before, and pointed him out going down the 
street, when I recognized, even with a glance at his 
back the lawyer. Monsieur Merle.” 

At this Senator John puffs out a billow of smoke 
and exclaims: 

“Great Scott! do you suppose he can have fallen 
into the hands of these merciless sharks who are so 
deep in the mire that they would hesitate at nothing 
now to gain their end?” 

‘^No, from all that I have heard, I’m of the opin- 
ion that they had nothing whatever to do with the 
disappearance of Rudolph Gordon, who climbed out 
of his window in the night-time, descended a tree 
and fled, being perhaps out of his mind. I am also 
positive that the servant, not being warned, and in- 
fluenced by the suave tongue of Monsieur Merle, told 
more about the disappearance of his singular charge 
than was proper, and, as a consequence, they may 
even now be on his track while we waste time. Such 
bold plotters can see a way clear if once that old man 
falls into their power. Oh! if Bob were only here.” 

“Who takes my name in vain?” laughs the indi- 
vidual mentioned, coming suddenly upon them. 


164 


A FIGHT WITH FOBTUNE. 


Joe Hooker takes him in hand, and when he hears 
the latest developments in the case, Bob has a revulsion 
of feeling, the laugh seems to leave his face or 
change into a look of concern, for he realizes, per- 
haps to a greater degree than the Senator has done, 
what it means for them. 

Fortunately, Pemberton is a man of action, a man 
who cannot be dazed by any sudden misfortune — who 
bears up bravely under weights that might over- 
whelm most persons. 

We have seen this characteristic shown before — 
when he saved the charming creature who has now 
become his wife. Bob Pemberton is only acting 
the part that long habit has constituted a portion of 
his nature. His training in Wall street has at least 
served him well on several occasions. 

So Bob rises grandly to the occasion and at once 
takes the reins in his hands. 

“Joe, are you at leisure — can you enter this game 
for a ten thousand dollar fee providing we win?’’ 

“Ten thousand — you take my breath away, man. 
Why, that would give me five years’ travel in the 
oddest corners of the world,” gasps Hooker. 

“With a companion as fond of world trotting as 
yourself, and able to pay his own expenses,” puts 
in Senator John, calmly. 

The two men then shake hands, while Bob actually 
smiles to see them. 

“Count me in to the death. Bob,” cries Joe. 

“I’m with you, old fellow — you know that with- 
out telling,” says the Senator, eagerly. 

“Many thanks, both. Joe, will you step over to 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 165 

the clerk yonder and find out about the time of 
trains to Gordonville?” 

The individual mentioned does not delay a 
moment, but is gone. 

“Senator, will you get a carriage to hold four.” 

“Then Mrs. Bob ” 

“Goes where we do. ” 

John Archer makes for the door with the speed of 
a Mercury. 

Bob waits. 

Presently Joe turns up. 

“What time have you?” he demands. 

“Five minutes to eleven.” 

“Train leaves for Gordonville at eleven — won’t be 
another till evening.” 

Bob does not collapse — these emergencies show 
what metal a man is made of. 

“If I could only reach the right man I’d have that 
train wait for us. As it is, we will be compelled to 
try something else.” 

Senator John now shows up. 

“Carriage is waiting.” 

“I’ll get Gypsy. ” 

“But, Bob, only three minutes remain — you can’t 
get that train,” declares Joe. 

“Well, perhaps we can reach Gordonville in some 
way or other. I’ll find out just how far it is, and 
what can be done with a special train, and if that 
fails we still have the carriage.” 

He leaves the others and seeks his wife, to hur- 
riedly give her an idea of the case. Particulars can 


166 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


be had while en route. She will trust to his judgment 
in the matter, and do whatever he advises. 

In a very short time he appears, accompanied by 
his wife, ready for traveling. On the way he ad 
dresses a few words to the clerk, telling him to hold 
their trunks and rooms until he hears by wire what 
to do with them. 

“Now for the carriage.’^ 

In another minute they are off for the station, just 
seven minutes after train time. 

“I’ve known of trains in Virginia that were de- 
layed half an hour in starting. These single track 
roads can never be depended on,” remarks Joe, 
consolingly. 

“That would be too good luck — don’t count on it. 
You’ll find we have to depend on ourselves pretty 
much for everything gained here,” answers Bob, who 
gave over long ago trusting to fortune. 

And he is quite right, too. 

Reaching the station, they find that the train has 
started exactly on schedule time. Can they hire a 
special to take them to Gordonville? Such a thing 
astonishes the official in charge. A special on this 
road is rather an unknown quantity, and they are 
hardly prepared for it. 

He endeavors to appear as though such a demand 
were a daily occurrence — these railway officials do 
not like to be looked down upon, no matter if they 
represent a line five miles long. He assumes a 
thoughtful air, glances over some files and books of 
accounts, and consumes at least six or seven minutes 
before he shakes hi3 head, 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


167 


“Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but every engine is 
engaged — awful busy just at present — any other time 
we could accommodate you.” 

That ends it. 

Bob thanks him, and secures a railroad map of the 
Old Dominion, with time tables. 

Retiring to a corner he and Joe Hooker endeavor 
to study out a plan of campaign, while the Senator 
enjoys a tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bob, who casts numer- 
ous glances over to where her liege lord is puzzling 
his brains over the problem of how to reach Gordon- 
ville in the shortest possible space of time. 

“There has been a change in my experience,” 
says John Archer, with a smile — “once before I, 
with a few others, notably a man named Grant, were 
confronted with the problem of how to get into 
Richmond. That puzzle bothered us many months. 
Now the question is how to get out of the immortal 
capital on the James.” 

This appears to strike John’s wife as ludicrous, for 
she gives vent to a little gush of laughter that causes 
her husband to look up in surprise, wondering what 
can arouse her when the case is so desperate. 

“Poor Bob,” she says, sympathetically, ^^he does 
look so forlorn. Generally he can meet difficulties 
and overcome them in grand style, but once in a long 
time I have to help him cut. It began that way, 
you remember. Senator. I’ve been brought up in and 
around Richmond pretty much, and perhaps I can 
solve the knotty problem. Kindly hand me that 
railway guide. ” 

She fingers the pages with a dexterity thatpromise^ 


168 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


great results, studies the columns and before five 
minutes have gone smiles sweetly. 

“I think I can see a chance to save time. There 
is a train that leaves for Fayette at three-ten. That 
place is only nine miles from Gordonville. A vehicle 
will take us there. I have never gone over the road, 
but we might chance it. ” 

Senator John catches the eye of Pemberton and 
beckons him over. 

“Have you reached any conclusion?^’ he asks. 

“Not yet. We have several plans under considera- 
tion, but I’m far from satisfied. Why do you ask — 
has Gypsy been up to her old tricks?” with a loving 
glance at Mrs. Bob. 

“Well, I thought that unless you have discovered 
some better way of treating the subject, we might do 
worse than take the train for Fayette at three-ten, 
and with a vehicle reach Gordonville, just nine miles 
away,” she replies, modestly, whereat Bob nods his 
head vigorously. 

“Far the best plan yet, and better than our choice, 
which was to reach the place by a relay of carriages. 
One suggestion Joe made — do you know of any one 
there who could be trusted with a secret?” 

“Yes — there’s Seth Tucker, our constable, who 
always thought much of me. He is secretive, steady, 
reliable,” she replies. 

“Good. I shall wire Seth Tucker instantly to 
watch the train arriving from Richmond, and if an 
old man alights who resembles the dead Rudolph 
Gordon, to keep near him and neither allow him to 
escape nor harm befall him,” 


A FIGHT WITH FORTUNE. 


169 


“Splendid!” clapping her hands. 

“And sign your name to it.” 

“He will do much for me.” 

“Who wouldn’t,” declares the admiring Bob, at 
which she shakes her finger at him, and he hurries 
away, thinking he ought to be the happiest man on 
Virginia soil, with such a bright wife. 

Straight to the telegraph office he hies, and pres- 
ently over the wires is flying a message that will cer- 
tainly electrify the operator at Gordonville, who has 
little outside of routine work to keep him busy dur- 
ing the day — a message that will also startle old Seth 
Tucker and cause him to think a revolution is at 
hand, when the entire police force of Gordonville, as 
constituted in himself, is set to work ferreting out a 
deep mystery. 

This done to the satisfaction of the committee of 
one. Bob returns to his party, and the whole of them 
once more bring up at Ford’s. Although they have 
apparently been baffled thus far by fate, they do not 
intend to sleep over it. 

In season they sally forth to catch the three-ten 
train for Fayette, and this time all go prepared for a 
journey. Bob carrying a satchel which his wife 
claims. 

The train leaves twenty minutes late, and they ad- 
vance at a snail’s pace. Bob and the Senator ex- 
change glances, and smile dismally — this is poor 
progress when haste is needed. 


170 


THE WALKING WAS GOOD, 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE WALKING WAS GOOD. 

Of course it would not be complete without a 
breakdown. The accident occurs to the engine, and 
they lie still for so'me twenty minutes. Bob, usually 
so cool, actually fumes, the Senator walks up and 
down outside, smoking, while Joe finds certain pleas- 
ure in chatting with Gypsy, and, in a sly way, ascer- 
taining whether she knows anything about a cousin 
named Blanche, or if indeed, .she has ever heard that 
Colonel Corneel was married. 

At length the Senator marches down in the direc- 
tion of the engine. Five minutes later he turns up, 
his face wreathed in smiles. 

“Turn out!’^ he says. 

“Wherefore?’^ demands Bob. 

“The walking is good to Fayette.” 

“Yes, but the distance?” 

“One mile.” 

“Ah ! then we’re with you, my friend, if there’s- 
any likelihood of a long stay here.” 

“Gypsy, what do you say?” 

“I can walk with the best. You remember you 
once called me a Diana,” she laughs. 

They joke each other at the odd spectacle of four 
travelers stringing down the track, with what bag- 
gage they possess, while the suu hangs over the 

4 


THE WALKING WAS GOOD. 


171 


western hills — it is such a sensible idea that their ex- 
ample is soon copied by several others on the stalled 
train, which, by the time it pulls into Fayette, will 
have few passengers aboard. 

It is not more than a mile the)^ have to tramp, and 
with fair walking they reach the town at about ten 
minutes after four. 

Bob immediately makes inquiries regarding a 
livery stable, and finds what he seeks near at hand. 
Already they realize that the chances are they can- 
not make anything by this move, bright though it 
seemed at the time — that had they waited for the 
evening train to Gordonville it would have been well. 
However, they have gone too far to retreat now, and 
must proceed. 

At least fortune favors them in securing a good 
pair of horses, and a driver who knows the hilly 
country around like a book. They are assured it is a 
rough mountain ride, but remain undaunted. 

Away they go. 

Bob’s wife is full of enthusiasm with regard to the 
venture. A ride over the mountains of her native 
State pleases her. 

At first all goes well. 

Their horses are fresh and they make good time 
across the valley. One range of hills is ascended — the 
view from the top, looking backward, is sublime, for 
the beautiful valley lies there bathed in the mellow 
glow of afternoon sunshine, the trees masses of 
orange and bright red. 

A look ahead is really appalling when the fact is 
taken into consideration that they must continue 


172 


THE WALKING WAS GOOD. 


this journe}^ for the most part after night, and the 
mountains rear themselves beyond the second valley 
like a barrier. 

Not one of the little company falters, though Bob 
crawls out while the driver is giving his horses a 
couple ot minutes’ rest, and asks numerous questions 
concerning the road ahead, and the probability of 
their reaching Gordonville in sound condition. 

Then away they go again. 

Down into the second valley they descend, and 
here the shadows of night begin to overwhelm them. 
It is a romantic spot — so weird, so wild, and Gypsy, 
whose soul is that of a child of nature, draws great 
breaths of inspiration as she watches, and cannot be 
influenced to take her head away from the window 
of the carriage. 

While Bob was bargaining for the vehicle the 
thoughtful Senator had dodged into a convenient 
bakery, and quickly emerged bearing a mysterious 
bundle, which he now produces, showing a loaf of 
bread, butter, and various triumphs of the baker’s 
skill at cake making as practiced by the profes- 
sional at Fayette. 

They have much fun over the disposal of this won- 
derful lot of crullers and rolls and currant cakes, but 
it answers fairly the demand for a supper, and they 
are not in a condition to quarrel. 

‘ ‘This is quite romantic, ’ ’ declares Joe, enthusiastic- 
ally. 

“Only requires the sudden stoppage of the vehicle 
and the appearance of fierce brigands at the windows 
to make us think we are in Spain or Italy,” says Bob. 


THE WALKING WAS GOOD. 


173 


Hardly had he spoken when the carriage conies to 
a sudden halt. 

“Prepare to deliver!” exclaims Bob’s wife, 
dramatically. 

“Jove! unless I’m mistaken there are some rascals 
in these mountain fastnesses — a crowd known to the 
Richmond authorities as the Bagley gang, and the 
leader is about as desperate a fellow as one could run 
across in a year. Of course I don’t know whether 
they have taken to stage robbery or not, but a chance 
like this would probably seem like a fine streak of 
fortune to them. 

The Senator whistles. 

“Get out your firearms, friends. Prepare to sell 
your lives dearly,” he says. 

“Perhaps our driver is in league with the rob- 
bers,” suggests Mrs. Bob. 

“Had I better finish him at once?” laughs her 
husband. 

The sudden starting of the vehicle prevents this 
dark deed from being consummated, and, for the 
present, all fears of brigands are banished. At any 
rate, the little scare has shown them the chances of 
meeting such an adventure, and brought to light a 
deadly array of revolvers that might well cause any 
would-be robber to fall back aghast. 

They keep on for a short distance — perhaps a quar- 
ter of an hour of climbing the mountain road con- 
tinues, and then conies another sudden stop. 

Voices are heard. 

This looks like business, and Bob nudges the stout 
Senator, fearing he has gone to sleep, though there 


174 


THE WALKING WAS GOOD. 


is little danger of that with the coach lurching from 
side to side in such an extravagant way. 

“I’m on deck, my boy,” answers the old tourist, 
in a stage whisper, which, however, reaches other 
ears. 

“Do you think we’ll be attacked?” asks Gypsy. 

“Probably not, but some one is talking to the 
driver, and we had better be prepared,” 

They can see a fire blazing without and although 
the place is surrounded by trees, and walls, making 
it naturally gloomy and dark, the tongues of flames, 
feeding on the resinous pine wood, light up the scene 
in a weird manner. 

Without any warning a head, surmounted by a 
shock of hair, suddenly appears at the door of the 
vehicle and a nasal voice says : 

“Gentlemen, if you value your lives ” when 

four terrible weapons are suddenly thrust into his 
face, almost paralyzing the wretch and causing his 
shock of hair to stand on end. 

“Great shucks!” he is heard to gasp, faintly. 

Before any further action is taken the driver of the 
vehicle comes to the rescue. 

“Hold up, gents, don’t fire!” he exclaims. 

“We’ve got the tables turned and might as well 
make him hand over his ducats,” says Bob. 

“Who d’ye take him for, gents?” 

“One of the Bagley gang, perhaps old Jim him- 
self,” replies Joe, whereat the Jehu laughs, hoarsely. 

“Why, this here old innocent air Peter Ginsing, 
the charcoal burner. He thought as how he’d do you 
a service. Reckon you’re nigh scart his wits out.” 


THE WALKING WAS GOOD, 


175 


The quartet of revolvers disappears. 

“We beg his pardon. Peter, accept this as an 
apology,” and Bob thrusts a big cartwheel silver dol- 
lar into the black hand of the charcoal burner who 
seems to breathe easier when that terrible array of 
firearms no longer stares him in the face. 

“What were you about to tell us, my man?” 

“Well, yer see, the road yer on is dangerous. It 
goes right past whar ole Jim an’ his gang hole out 
— sartin sure ter hev trouble,” says Peter. 

‘^Is there any other to Gordonville?” 

“By goin’ back a mile y’ell come acrost one. 
Reckon ther driver is a knowin’ o’ it.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard about it, but this is the best 
road, if ye ain’t worryin’ about Jim,” returns that 
worthy. 

A hurried council of war is held. 

Strangely enough Mrs. Bob sounds the keynote of 
the campaign when she says: 

“I am for war. We will lose time in going back, 
and may waste the whole night, as the road is 
unfamiliar to the driver. Count me as voting for an 
advance along the whole line.” 

The others applaud her decision. 

“That settles it — driver, push on. Peter, good- 
night, and many thanks to you.” 

So they leave the blazing fires of the charcoal 
burner and continue along the lonely road. 

“We must be more than half way — my bright 
idea did not turn out so well, after all,” says Gypsy, 
but the others will not hear of her taking any blame 
for their delay. 


176 


TFED ON THE VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS. 


Their advance is all very well, and if nothing hap- 
pens, in another hour and a half they may expect to 
drive into Gordonville, 

Joe Hooker, for a change, has taken his seat out- 
side, and enjoys a cigar, as they can get an occa- 
sional whiff of the smoke, though Gypsy begged him 
not to leave on her account, as she has always rather 
enjoyed the odor of a good weed. 

They have reached the apex of the range and are 
on a level stretch of road, when once more the 
horses are thrown on their haunches and the vehicle 
comes to a stand — this time a shot is heard — the 
plain, unmistakable report of a firearm. 

“That means business, by Jove!” exclaims Bob. 


CHAPTER XX. 

STOPPED ON THE VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS. 

Sounds of confusion are heard, lights flash here 
and there, lanterns and torches, while deep voices 
are shouting. 

Bob turns to the other two. 

“Remain inside the vehicle.” 

It is all he says as he opens the door, springs to 
the ground, and shuts the means of egress; but 
Gypsy already has her head outside the window. 

“Oh ! Bob, be careful — do nothing rash,” she says. 


STOPPED ON THE VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS. 177 


He makes some hurried reply, and then vanishes 
in the darkness, as though he really means to give 
them the slip, but none of them believe any such 
thing, of course, knowing him too well for that. 

By this time the sounds are all around them, and 
there can be no doubt but that here in the mountains 
of Old Virginia they are about to experience what 
has befallen many a traveler in the Old World and 
California. 

Jim Bagley and his set of outlaws do not often 
have a rich prize thus come into their very hands, 
and consequently they will not neglect the oppor- 
tunity to replenish their depleted treasury. 

Rough faces are seen on both sides of the vehicle, 
and imperative demands made for an unlimited circu- 
lation of silver or greenbacks — these men who hide 
in the fastnesses of the mountains do not care par- 
ticularly which. 

The Senator does not know the plans of this com- 
rades, but guesses that they desire to keep the rascals 
from firing into the vehicle. 

Instead, therefore, of showing any weapon, he 
attempts to parley with them. They believe they 
hold the power in their hands, and as there is no im • 
mediate necessity for haste they meet him squarely, 
and attempt to explain why it will pay all in the 
vehicle to pan out what they have. 

As far as the Senator can see, there are some seven 
of the fellows, most of them angular mountaineers, 
and doubtless daring enough. He expects to hear 
from Bob and Joe every moment, and cannot make 
out why they are silent. 


178 STOPPED ON THE VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS. 

Just as patience ceases to be a virtue with the men, 
and they are demanding in no uncertain tones that 
the inmates of the vehicle step out and be searched, 
the event which Senator John has been awaiting so 
eagerly occurs. 

lyoud shouts burst out, and the shots begin to rattle 
at a lively rate. If one did not know any better, he 
would be apt to believe there were half a dozen in 
the attacking force at least. 

Naturally the outlaws are demoralized, not dream- 
ing of such a thing. They doubtless imagine this has 
been some trick of the officials to effect their capture 
— that the carriage is a bait, and in attacking it they 
have fallen into a trap. 

It does not matter that few are hurt by the rapid 
discharge of firearms — the panic is the same. For 
one full minute pandemonium reigns — shouts mingle 
with shots, hurrying figures surge this way and that. 
Bob and Hooker rush upon the scene, still firing to 
wound, while they add their voices to swell the 
clamor, and even Mrs. Bob thinks she ought to 
scream to have a finger in the pie. Luckily, the 
driver succeeds in a measure in restraining his horses, 
which prance and endeavor to dash away. 

The outlaws in their demoralized state have by 
this time melted away — some run, others crawl, and 
one fellow actually rolls into the bushes. As the 
coast seems clear Bob and his friend run after the 
carriage, which is moving along the road, the driver 
being unable to longer restrain his steeds. 

Joe climbs up the back. Bob finds a door open 
for him, a helping hand is extended and he is half 


STOPPED ON THE VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS. r:9 


dragged into the coach, which now begins to make 
better time, as the driver allows his horses a little 
more freedom. 

Soon the brow of the elevation will be reached, 
and then they must descend, when the brake with 
which the vehicle is provided will be brought into 
requisition. 

Bob has his head out and listens — above the rattle 
of the wheels he hears shots in the rear, and might 
imagine the mountain brigands were having it out 
among themselves only that one of the bullets sings 
merrily by, in close proximity to his ear. 

It is evident, then, that the Bagleys have recovered 
some of their usual fighting qualities, and are chas- 
ing the carriage, which, with its contents, seems to 
be giving them the slip, after all. 

If it were daylight they could rqake such good time 
that the danger of being overtaken must be reduced 
to a minimum ; but at the same time there would be 
a chance of a rifle bullet from some keen-eyed moun- 
taineer’s weapon dropping a horse. 

At last they are over the brow of the hill, and for 
a brief time beyond range of their determined 
pursuers. 

Bob does not like this running business, but it is 
certainly policy, and besides how can they help it. 
The worst part of it all is this haphazard shooting. 
At any instant a bullet may dash into the vehicle 
and kill one of them. 

He places Gypsy in a position where she will be, 
in a measure, protected by the valises, but she imme- 
diately divines his motive and refuses to profit by it. 


180 STOPPED ON THE VIIiGINIA MOUNTAINS. 

“If you take the chances surely I can, Bob,” is 
what she says. 

Bob is already thinking of something else. 

“Have you reloaded, Senator?” for he had bor- 
rowed the other’s revolver ere leaving the coach. 

“Yes,” comes the reply. 

“Then we must get out and drive these fellows 
back. They haven’t had enough yet.” 

“Nothing would suit me better — sort of revive old 
recollections of these same hills, you know,” replies 
the traveler, eagerly. 

“I’ll tell Joe.” 

“You mean to leave me here alone in the coach,” 
cries Gypsy. 

“You are not afraid, dear?” 

“I rather guess not,” she laughs. 

Bob pokes his head out, and punching Joe tells 
him what must be done. As the lead is beginning to 
fly around them again very much like rain, it seems 
that they cannot be too speedy about carrying this 
game into execution. 

As the driver slackens the pace a little they jump 
out at either side, leaving Gypsy to shut the coach 
doors. The vehicle rattles on. 

“Joe,” says Pemberton, softly. 

“Here!” and that individual rises near them. 

“Let us crouch behind this log and make an am- 
bush. See, they will presently be outlined against 
the horizon — the sky above.” 

The others recognize the truth of Bob’s words, 
and catch the drift of his plan. They immediately 
drop into position, and a line of three revolvers is 


STOPPED ON THE^VIRGINIA MOUNTAINS. 181 

presented over the old fallen forest monarch. Per- 
haps, in the dark days, from ’6i to ’65 this same spot 
may have witnessed scenes not unlike the one now 
occurring, for along the border States brothers often 
fought each other, and father was pitted against son. 

“There they come,” whispers Joe. 

Senator John heaves a sigh. 

“Hate to do it, but the old spirit is still alive, 
and — make your shots tell, my boys,” he says. 

“Ready?” demands Bob. 

Both of the others answer in the affirmative. 

“Then let drive. ” 

The Bagleys have indeed burst into plain view — 
they are outlined against the heavens as they run 
along down the hillside road, firing as they come, 
and evidently determined to get game this time. 
Seldom have these fellows been thus balked in their 
intentions, and it is certainly aggravating to have 
such a rich prize come to their very stronghold and 
slip out of their grasp. Hence these frantic efforts on 
their part to recover the lost ground. 

When Bob gives the order, the three of them fire 
— the trio of reports sounds almost in unison, and 
then commences a rattling discharge, like the 
popping of a pack of firecrackers. 

The effect is startling upon the advancing foe — 
they halt and reel backward with shouts that tell of 
sudden consternation — dismay. An ambuscade is a 
deadly affair — they know its possibilities well, but as 
a general thing they have been at the other end of 
the guns that did the firing. 

“Enough!” says Bob, 


182 STOPPED ON THE VIPvGINIA MOUNTAINS. 


“It^s as good as a feast,’’ chimes in Joe. 

The last vestige of the enemy has vanished amid 
the bushes, and there is no use in wasting good am- 
munition on the air. So they turn once more to run 
after the vehicle. 

When they have gone some little distance and fail 
to run across the carriage, it begins to look as though 
something not down on the programme had occurred. 

“Confound it, I’m afraid,” mutters Joe. 

“Of what?” demands Bob. 

“That rascally Jehu!” 

“Well, what of him?” 

“He’s run away with your wife.” 

At this Pemberton actually laughs. 

“Shows how little you know Mrs. Bob. That 
driver may be enterprising, and perhaps something 
of a schemer, but when he undertakes to get the best 
of my wife in a deal like this, he goes beyond his 
depth.” 

“Such confidence is sublime,” murmurs the 
Senator. 

“Listen. ” 

All stand still and strain their ears in the endeavor 
to make out sounds. All they can hear seem to be 
voices on the rise above — probably the badly demor- 
alized remnants of the Bagleys comparing notes and 
ascertaining damages. 

“Makes me think of a scattered covey of quail 
peeping to each other in the bushes,” declares Joe, 
jokingly. 

“I hear nothing of the carriage,” remarks Bob. 

“What do you take that a sign of?” 


THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 183 


“The coach has stopped. Even if it had kept on 
the go all the time since we left it, there has been no 
chance of its getting beyond hearing distance under 
these conditions. Come on. ” 

Once more they advance down the hill road on a 
run, with ears strained to catch any sounds ahead. 
Ah ! that was very like the stamping of an impatient 
horse. Bob chuckles as he runs. 

A minute later, and they hear a voice ahead — a 
woman’s voice, and yet decided — firm. 

“Be careful, sir. Hold them in on your life, for 
if they go you do, too. Not another jump, not 
another yard shall we advance. You didn’t know 
Mrs. Bob Pemberton when you tried to run away 
with a poor lone woman,” says this ringing voice. 

Bob nearly bursts with pride. 

“Gentlemen, hear — that’s my wife!” he says, and 
the others join in his enthusiasm. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 

They reach the coach. 

Mrs. Bob greets their coming with some satisfac- 
tion, and sure enough they find her covering the re- 
bellious driver with just as much enthusiasm as she 
ever did a covey of quail. 


184 THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 


Bob is for demanding explanations of the driver — 
the fellow is abject in his fear, and claims that it was 
his horses that were at fault, and only by the most 
strenuous exertion did he succeed in quieting them 
at last — a man can do much when his life is at stake. 

This is not the time for entering into any contro- 
versy, as minutes are precious, and the Bagleys may 
recover enough nerve to come sneaking around, 
thinking to get a snap-shot from cover at the parties 
who have worsted them so badly. 

So they all enter. 

The journey is resumed, and in due time ahead of 
them they sight the lights of Gordonville. 

“Look there!” cries Bob, who has his head out of 
the carriage window, and all obey. 

They see sparks flying upward from some rapidly 
moving object in the distance, that appears to be 
heading toward Gordonville. 

Bob’s wife laughs. 

“That’s the train we would have taken in comfort, 
only for my bright idea,” she says. 

“Never mind,” declares the Senator, intending to 
comfort her, “we’ve had a great time of it.” 

“And passed through several strange experiences 
we will not soon forget,” adds Bob. 

“It’s a race to see which will enter town first. 
Tell the driver to whip up. Bob, dear.” 

So they go along at a rapid rate, and at last have 
the satisfaction of beating the train from Richmond 
into town about three minutes, which feat elates Mrs, 
Bob considerably. 

“There, say we haven’t done well,” she exclaims, 


THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 

clapping her hands and appearing to enjoy the fact 
as though it were a great victory. 

“Well, here we are at Gordon ville. Now, what is 
to be the programme?” says Joe, as, having paid the 
driver and dismissed the vehicle, they stand in front 
of the only inn the town can boast. 

“We settled that on the way here. Get another 
carriage and have the driver take us out to the Gor- 
don Manor house. Gypsy knows about it — she’s at 
home here. ” 

“Yes, come with me. There’s a darky close by 
who has a vehicle for hire — rather dilapidated to be 
sure, but it will answer our purpose, and Uncle 
Daniel thinks a good bit of me.” 

“Who wouldn’t?” whispers foolish Bob, in her 
ear, for you know the honeymoon is still on — not 
that his love will ever change, but it will learn to 
live without these foolish little ebullitions. 

Uncle Daniel is found and is only too proud to 
serve “Missy Gypsy,” as he knows her. So, entering 
his ancient vehicle, the steed is whipped up and 
away they go. 

Even Bob recognizes familiar landmarks, for it 
was only a short time before that he came to visit his 
friend near this place, and shoot “partridge,” as they 
call our quail in Virginia. 

“We’ll soon be there. I do hope we find that noth- 
ing has happened to him,” Gypsy says, and they all 
know whom she means. 

The ride is not very long. 

Uncle Daniel has his orders and knows where to 


186 THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 

halt. They leave the vehicle and advance along the 
road until some white posts loom up. 

“Here’s the gate,” says Gypsy. 

“And partly open, too, which is suspicious.” 

“Yes, if old Reuben is still here he would never 
allow such a thing; he’s very particular to have the 
gate closed,” continues Gypsy. 

“Then we can take it for granted that those we 
seek have at least been here.” 

They enter the grounds. Every foot of the place is 
familiar to Gypsy, who spent a number of years of 
her girlhood here, and knows each tree where she 
used to climb in her venturesome moods. 

By degrees they pass through the park, so well 
known in Virginia, and draw near the manor house. 
Bob has his wife’s arm in his, and he is surprised to 
feel her tremble. 

“Courage, my dear girl. What do you find to fear 
here — you who have so bravely faced all sorts of 
dangers with me?” he whispers. 

“It affects me strangely — I have believed him 
dead, and now the thought of seeing him again — oh, 
I can’t express my feelings in words, but don’t you 
know, a cold chill seems to pass over me. It’s all 
foolish, of course, and I’ll try to overcome it.” 

“I am a little afraid you have taken cold, and 
therefore insist on your drawing that warm shawl 
more closely about your shoulders, and accept this 
camphora disc. Look — the house!” 

It suddenly looms up before them as they reach an 
opening in the trees, being on a rise of ground, with 
the heavens for a background. 


THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 187 

Gordon Manor — all Virginia knows of it — was the 
scene of many strange incidents during the war 
times. Since then it has been redeemed and made 
one of the loveliest homes south of Mason and Dixon’s 
line. 

The old slave cabins long since gave way to com- 
fortable houses for the hands, some little distance 
back of the mansion itself. Everything is kept in 
apple-pie order. 

“I see a light,” announces Joe, and then as other 
windows come in range, they find that it is rot 
confined to one place. 

Thus they finally reach the house and silently 
mount the front steps leading to the doors, great, 
heavy carved affairs a hundred and fifty years old, on 
one of which is hung a ponderous brass knocker, 
which Gypsy remembers well, as it was her great 
delight to raise this and after knocking, run and hide 
to watch Dinah’s amazed face as she found no one 
there and believed spirit hands had beat the summons. 

“Shall we knock?” asks the Senator, as his hand 
comes in contact with the brass summons server. 

“What’s the use — the door’s open,” remarks Bob. 

“Very hospitable, these people, with their open 
gates and doors ajar,” mutters Joe. 

So, without any invitation, they enter the house. 
The great wide hall receives them — it is not quite 
in darkness for a lamp hanging in a swinging bracket 
relieves their surroundings of the gloom that must 
otherwise be upon them. 

Is Rudolph Gordon here, and, if so, in what posi- 
tion? Would faithful old Reuben recognize and re- 


188 THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 

ceive the master whom he once so safely deposited in 
the family vault near Richmond? Then what of 
Colonel Cornelius and the shrewd little French law- 
yer — would they venture to attempt anything des- 
perate in order to accomplish their ends? 

These are things that have to be examined into, 
and it is this object that brings them to Gordon 
Manor on this October night. 

‘‘Let us listen,” says Bob, so solemnly that his 
wife titters, just as if he had been in meeting and 
invited the others to join him in devotion. 

All is not quiet in the house — they hear voices 
the very first thing, voices that proclaim the presence 
of those whom they seek. 

In the direction of the kitchen can also be heard 
other sounds, as of weeping and praying — evidently 
the colored folks belonging to the plantation have 
received a genuine scare — they have looked upon 
what they believe is the spirit of the dead master 
come to haunt the scenes of his life, and it has given 
them a shock indeed. 

As to the others, they are closer at hand. 

“Can you lead us to them?” Bob asks, in the ear 
of his wife, who, without hesitation, replies: 

“Easily — they are in the library. Hark! what do 
they throw furniture about like that for?” 

“I should say they were searching for some one,” 
replies Joe, “and mighty angry because he can’t be 
found. ” 

“Undoubtedly your grandfather. Do you know of 
any secret hiding-place he had, Gypsy?” 

“Yes. This house, you know, the main part of it 


THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 189 

at least, was built before the Revolution, and there 
is a secret passage back of the library fireplace, that 
leads to a little room.” 

“Any exit from that room?” 

“There is a way of reaching the garden.” 

“Then it seems to me, if we want to catch the old 
gentleman, cunning enough to return to this house 
for something valuable that he desires to regain pos- 
session of, we ought to place one of our number at 
that exit. ” 

“Exactly, after we have heard what these men are 
talking about. Perhaps they may give us a clew that 
will govern our actions,” is the sensible remark 
Bob ends with. 

He turns to his wife. 

“Lead on.” 

Gypsy could walk through the quaint old manor 
house in the dark, so familiar is she with every nook 
and cranny, where she has played as a child and 
hidden from her old black mammy, to whom she 
was ever a flash of sunshine. She takes them straight 
to the drawing-room. 

“See, the connecting door is ajar — we will go this 
way — be careful,” is her warning, and directly across 
the parlor she leads her followers. 

They see the drift of her plans and realize how 
sensibly she looks at the matter. Through the partly 
open connecting doors they can see the whole of the 
library. Two men come within range of their vision 
and tliese are, of course, the ones whom they expect 
to find here — the French limb of the New York Bar 


190 THE GHOST WALKS AT GORDON MANOR. 

atid his liberal employer, Mrs. Bob’s uncle, Colonel 
Corneel. 

These two men appear to be very much exercised. 
They bustle about the room, overturning furniture 
and acting as if they had lost something valuable, 
something that might even have dropped into a 
mouse’s hole, to judge from the manner in which 
Monsieur Merle gets down on his fat little knees and 
peers under sofa and bookcase. 

All the while they keep up a running comment, 
and being separated most of the time, these remarks 
are plainly heard. 

“I’m sure there’s a secret hiding place somewhere 
around — it’s been known to our family since the 
Revolution, but bless my soul if I am able to locate 
it,” the fire-eating colonel says. 

“So far we have done well — eet will be queer if 
we cannot bag our game at last. Ze excuse you gave 
ze major domo of ze plantation zat we were in pur- 
suit of an escaped lunatic who pretended to be ze 
defunct Rudolph Gordon, seemed to satisfy him. 
Now, it would only be right if we compel zat same 
old family servant to show us ze secret hiding-place 
of zis man. ” 

“Come, that isn’t such a bad idea, after all. Per- 
haps we might have old Reuben put on the rack. 
He’s an obstinate old fool, but knowing his master is 
dead, he might reveal it, especially if we used a little 
of the diplomacy you boast of.” 

“I have only ze one fear.” 

“What’s that, monsieur?” 

“Zat zere may be one other opening — you have 


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW, 


191 


seen ze picture of ze old boot zat ze mouse ran in — 
ze cat try to follow — begar! mouse pop out of ze 
hole in ze toe and run away while ze cat he is stuck 
fast half way in. • Colonel, we may be ze cat — while 
we hunt here he goes zere. ” 

“You forget — we have Grubbs outside, as smart a 
detective as old Virginia ever knew. He will be apt 
to catch any one escaping. You see, Grubbs ” 

Bang goes a door. 

Hurried steps are heard — then a man bursts into 
the library, a forlorn-looking specimen he is, too, 
with clothes torn and dusty, a face scratched and his 
hair awry — a man whom they seem to know. 

“Why, Grubbs, what’s the matter?” cries the 
colonel. 

'‘'‘Diable ! he has met ze ghost,” grins monsieur. 

“You’re wrong, sir, I met a cyclone, a whole cir- 
cus, with a dog under the wagon — tried to stop ’em 
— they let me down gently, and I’ve come to report,” 
is Grubbs’ reply. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 

The Virginia colonel and Monsieur Merle exchange 
a glance that means much. They are suddenly 
brought face to face with defeat. 

“Grubbs, do you mean to say that you failed to 
hold the old man?” cries Corneel. 


192 


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 


began to try, colonel, but they both came at me 
like a couple of old wildcats, and pretty soon I was 
on the defensive, and a minute later on the ground. 
Reckon my looks bear me out when I say I’ve 
passed through an experience, ” showing his rags and 
scratches. 

“Yes, yes, no doubt of it. You sail be paid. Mon- 
sieur Grubbs. Ze great question with us is, where are 
ze mans who did this sing?” 

“Oh! they’re gone,” coolly. 

“Gone!” gasps the colonel. 

“Gone!” gurgles the lawyer, throwing up both 
hands. 

“Reckon they’re pretty nigh the station now, and 
the up train’s just about due. If you step to the 
window you may ketch a sight of her,” returns 
Grubbs, who has been paid in advance, and having 
passed through a bitter experience, is just mean 
enough by nature to wish some of the bad luck to 
fall upon his employers. 

Both men immediately rush to the window and 
hear a rumbling sound, undoubtedly made by a train 
in the distance. 

“How could they go without our hearing the 
carriage?” demanded the colonel. 

“Zere is tanbark on ze drive — it makes no noise.” 

“Quite true, sir,” added Grubbs. 

“You speak of two — was the other a negro?” 

“Yes, a funny old chap— second Uncle Tom, but, 
thunder and Mars! didn’t he have nails,” with a 
sympathetic hand laid on his face. 

“That’s Old Reuben, curse him,” grates CorneeL 


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 193 

“Yes, Old Reuben, bless him,” whispers a voice 
in Bob’s ear — Gypsy’s voice. 

“What can we do?” asks the lawyer. 

“After him — it will be strange if a demented old 
man can outwit two such men.” 

“Yes, I’ll follow him to Richmond — to New York, 
if he goes there. I know now what he is after — it has 
all dawned on me suddenly, and I’ll live to defeat 
his plans. ” 

The boastful manner in which this is said excites 
the blood in Bob’s veins, and he can keep silent no 
longer. 

“There’s one thing you fail to take into considera- 
tion, Colonel Gordon, and that is — myself,” he sud- 
denly says, passing through the door and appearing 
before the astonished trio. 

“Who are you?” cries the other, failing to recog- 
nize Bob on the spur of the moment. 

“It ees ze man zat marry ze heiress — Mister Bob,” 
says Monsieur Merle, in consternation. 

“Well, what does he want here?” 

“Begar! — zere he is — ask him.” 

“Easily answered — followed you here to prevent 
you from injuring old Rudolph — arrived just in time 
to find you had been baffled by fate. As to my right 
here, my wife owns this property, and it is you who 
are intruding — you who ought to be kicked out of 
the door. ” 

“Sir, I am a Gordon — a Virginian.” 

“And I’m a Pemberton — a Kentuckian,” retorts 
Bob. 

“Should you dare to put your words into execu- 


194 


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 


tion there would be murder done, yes, murder, sir. I 
will depart in peace, since I have no further need of 
remaining. 

Not so Grubbs. 

The sharpest detective in all Virginia is feeling 
very sore over his defeat, and hopes to take it out on 
some one. He thinks he sees a chance here, not 
knowing Bob Pemberton. 

“Beg pardon, colonel, but we number three.” 

“What of it?” 

“And he’s only one. If you give the word, we 
might have a leetle amusement with Mr. Bob Pem- 
berton, of Kentucky. Strikes me you don’t bear him 
any too much love.” 

Grubbs thinks he has conceived a great idea, and 
gives his employer the benefit of it. He is just in a 
state of mind for something desperate. The colonel, 
however, notes one fact — as Bob stands there he has 
his right hand thrown carelessly back of him, so that 
it rests on his hip. These Kentucky gentlemen gen- 
erally carry a revolver there, and are astonishingly 
quick about getting the said weapon into working 
order. 

Bob wants no scene to occur here, with his wife so 
near at hand. He does what he knows will prevent it. 

‘ ‘ Gypsy — J oe — Senator ! ’ ’ 

“Great Scott! there’s a whole regiment back of 
him,” exclaims Grubbs, as he sees the three persons 
enter the room. 

He loses all desire for war. 

Gypsy looks at the colonel, who moves uneasily 


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 


195 


under her quizzical gaze and tries to smile, but the 
attempt is a dismal failure. 

“Well, Uncle Cornelius, this is a singular way of 
meeting. I am surprised and mortified to find my 
relative turned against me,” she says. 

He frowns now. 

“It’s all owing to old Rudolph’s unjust will. If 
he had left me even a portion of his money, I’d have 
been content, but to cut me, his only living son, off 
without a dollar, and leave everything to a girl makes 
me rebel. We Gordons have never been noted for 
mildness of disposition, you know, and it’s only nat- 
ural for me to make a gallant fight against unjust 
discrimination ” 

“Gallant fight — you use such words, you, who 
have lowered yourself to carry on miserable plotting 
against a girl — you who at this very minute are plan- 
ning injury against your own father, miraculously 
rescued from the grave. A gallant soldier you are, 
Uncle Cornelius — a coward, rather. You disgrace 
the name you bear. If I could I would bribe you to 
change it, go abroad and bury yourself in Paris.” 

These scathing words would cause most men to 
hang their heads in shame, but an adventurer of the 
Virginia colonel’s stripe has long since outgrown the 
small amount of modesty nature endowed him with 
as a youth, and he simply notes the last phrase of 
what she says. 

“It’s only a question of bargain and sale, then. 
Give me half the estate and I’ll go,” he declares. 

About this time Bob Pemberton arouses to the 
fact that as the legal husband of the owner of the 


196 


THE FACE AT THE mNDOW. 


Gordon property he should be exercising his rights. 

“Senator, open the door wide,” he says, with an 
awful black look on his face. ‘ 

The colonel looks alarmed. 

“What would you do?” he says, quickly. 

“Help you out of this place, you wretch.” 

Gypsy’s hand catches hold of Bob’s arm. 

“Don’t, Bob, dear. Remember, he’s my uncle. ” 

“Yes, remember, I’m her uncle,” sneers the 
colonel, very unwisely, for Bob’s blood is already 
boiling. 

He breaks away from the detaining hand of his 
wife, he rushes upon Gordon like an avalanche, and 
if that individual had fallen into the depths of a 
threshing machine he could not have met with a 
more disastrous fortune. 

He attempts to draw a weapon, but Bob’s eye has 
full swing, and notes the movement, which he 
paralyzes with a blow from his fist. Then he whirls 
the adventurer around and pushes him toward the 
door, reaching ^vhich he sends him flying into the 
hall with a vigorous kick, and then chases him out 
of the front door. 

When he returns Monsieur Merle is making his 
apologies for being connected with such a sly plotter 
as the colonel, and declaring that it is only because 
the other holds a power over him. 

They ignore the little Frenchman, and as the detec- 
tive has already made his escape, Monsieur Merle 
loses no time in following his example. 

Thus our friends are left in possession of the field, 
though after what they have heard the victory seems 


THElFACE AT THE WINDOW. 197 

a barren one, since the object of their solicitude has 
gone. 

Can they overtake him. Impossible, for the train is 
already at the station — they can hear the bell 
■ jangling in rude warning. 

What then? 

Rudolph Gordon has not come to his ancestral 
home without a purpose, and if he has accomplished 
this he will not stop long in Richmond. 

“Who knows anything about the trains?’’ 

It is Joe who asks this. 

“What time have you?” says Bob. 

“A quarter after nine.” 

“Seems to me when I left here before it was on an 
express — I know the hour was not far from eleven — - 
I reached Richmond and went west a day later.” 

“Yes, there is an express from the south that 
stops here on signal about that time,” affirms Gypsy 
— “at least, it used to some time ago.” 

“That leaves us good time to get back and have 
some supper at the hotel — I suppose it goes by that 
name.” 

“What! Joe, are you really hungry?” cries Bob. 

“After that wonderful feast en route^'*'^ laughs 
Madame Bob. 

“I confess to that failing — it is a weakness of 
mine,” and Joe places his hand on his stomach and 
groans dismally, at which the others laugh. 

“When can we leave here?” 

Bob looks to his wife while asking this, as he 
recognizes her right to regulate their movements. 

“I will be ready in a few minutes,” she replies, 


198 


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 


They sit down to be comfortable, and Bob engages 
his two friends in conversation, feeling that his wife 
has some motive beyond; but they cannot help 
watching her. 

Gypsy evidently is quite at home here and knows 
where the queer old recluse, her grandfather, used to 
keep certain of his valuables. She moves a panel in 
the wall, showing a cavity beyond, puts in her hand 
and gropes around, but only to meet with disappoint- 
ment. 

Next she lifts a loose board in the floor at a point 
where it would never be noticed, but again she finds 
nothing. For a minute Mrs Bob stands there with a 
forefinger pressed against her temple, in a thoughtful 
attitude; then she seems to glance around her as if 
fearing lest some peeping servant might see her thus 
revealing the secrets of Squire Gordon. 

As if resolved to let no scruple interfere with what 
appears to be a conscientious duty, she finally goes 
to an antique cabinet, and by pressing a spring opens 
a false back disclosing a queer nook, which is 
empty. 

“It is useless; he has taken it all,“ they hear her 
say, and each one in turn asks himself what this 
may mean. 

“I am ready to go, gentlemen — to New York — to 
Europe, if necessary, but he must be found before 
he loses what he has taken,” she says. 

“You mean the squire?” asks Bob. 

“Yes. Let us go; I do not care to stay longer.” 

“You are mistress here, my dear. We have plenty 
gf time; would it not be well to go in and see the 


HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 


199 


servants — to ease their minds — they will, I am sure, 
be glad to see you. Besides, you can keep them here 
to watch the property while we pursue this strange 
phantom, this man whom death even could not keep 
in the tomb.’’ 

“Your advice is good, my dear. Come with me — 
as my husband they shall know you as their new 
master,” and leaving the Senator and Joe in the 
library they pass in the direction of the kitchen. 

Ere they have been gone a minute Joe suddenly 
makes a spring, blows out the light, and runs to the 
window, to his friend’s amazement. 

“It was the face of that Colonel Corneel. Listen, 
you can hear him stumbling through the bushes in 
his hasty retreat. Senator, he had evil intentions at 
this window ; he hates Bob like a tiger-cat,” declares 
Joe Hooker. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 

Bob and his wife soon rejoin the others, having 
quieted the black servants, who, at sight of Gypsy’s 
beloved face, have shown the utmost enthusiasm, 
proving what a power she must have had over them 
in days gone by. 

“We are ready to depart now,” she says, quietly, 
for there are tears in her eyes ; everything about her 
awakens memories of the past. 

Joe has managed to tell his friend of the faceattlie 


200 


HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 


window, and Bob expresses no surprise, for he read 
the character of Colonel Corneel readily enough, and 
can easily imagine that this man would when balked 
in his designs, proceed to extreme measures. 

They leave Gordon Manor behind and head for 
their carriage. The driver greets their coming with 
some show of enthusiasm, and declares that several 
parties endeavored to influence him to take them into 
town, even going so far as to bully him. He chuckles 
as he tells how he got rid of them by a ruse, and seems 
to think such faithful service is worthy of extra pay, 
in which Bob agrees with him, as he contemplates 
the long walk back to town. 

They arrive at the tavern and create a great deal 
of sensation. Boys and colored girls run this way and 
that to serve the little company who have dropped 
into town so strangely, and must leave again by the 
express. 

Presently the aroma of good coffee, and the ap- 
petizing odor of fried chicken, permeate every nook 
and corner of the little hostelry, for if there is one 
dish upon which Virginia darkies pride themselves 
it is the way in which they prepare fowls. 

Poor Joe can hardly restrain himself, and walks up 
and down the front porch, groaning at the leaden 
weight attached to the hands of time. 

At last they are summoned to the feast and Joe 
appeases his terrible hunger. Over the meal they 
become quite chatty, for there is nothing to drive 
the blues out of a man so quickly as a cup of good 
coffee, and it is not everywhere in the back counties 
of Virginia one can find it, 


HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 


201 


They have plenty of time for the train, and at 
length rattle along, bound for Richmond, which 
capital is reached near midnight. 

Plans have been suggested, and they have a pretty 
fair idea as to what they ought to do. Back again to 
Ford’s, where the balance of the night is spent. 

With the morning all are abroad bright and early, 
for the day promises to be one of considerable 
iwiportance in their calendar. 

Bob bustles off before breakfast to find out what 
he can at the depot. Perhaps he may get trace of 
Rudolph Gordon here. The appearance of the old 
man is striking enough to attract attention, and some 
one may have noticed him. 

So Bob questions the ticket agent — he has been on 
duty all night, and is not very bright, but fails to 
remember having waited on any such person as is 
described to him. 

“Would this party be apt to take a sleeper?” he 
asks, and upon Bob’s replying in the affirmative, 
points out the little den where the agent of the 
Pullman company has his quarters. 

When Bob seeks that place he finds that the man 
who was on duty during the night has gone for his 
breakfast, and will not be on duty again until evening. 
Where does he eat? Around to the depot restaurant 
Bob hies, and making inquiries, finds his man drink- 
ing a cup of coffee. 

Bob proceeds to business. He is not a lawyer, but 
he can ask questions, and presently learns all that the 
agent knows. 

It seems settled that Squire Gordon went away 


202 HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 

from Richmond on the late express, and is by this 
time about in New York, for some one answering 
his description took a section in the New York 
sleeper. 

As Pemberton leaves the restaurant by one door, 
he chances to look around, and sees Monsieur Merle 
entering from -another quarter. He can only have 
one motive in coming here, and that is to see the 
Pullman agent. 

At sight of Bob he starts, and while taking a seat 
beside the agent at the lunch counter, orders a cup of 
coffee, just as though that were what he came for. 

Bob leaves him to his own devices, and goes back 
to the hotel. His mind is worried ; why does not 
Gypsy tell him all ; what is this secret which she 
keeps from her husband, a secret in which surely he 
must be concerned? They will follow old Rudolph; 
why does he go to Gotham ; what has he taken there 
of which Gypsy seems so anxious; can it be the 
family jewels or heirlooms. The more he ponders the 
less satisfaction he receives. 

He reaches the hotel and finds the others in the 
parlor. They wait breakfast for him, as it is proba- 
ble the news he brings will decide their future 
movements. 

Bob has experienced queer sensations during the 
last half hour. He is not suspicious by nature, but it 
seems that Gypsy is hardly treating him fairly in 
keeping hei secret. 

He could not be anything but the perfect gentleman, 
but there is something in his manner that causes her 
pain. She looks at him wistfully, and once or twice 


HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 


203 


opens her lii>s as though she would speak, but some- 
thing seems to hold her back. Rather early in the 
honeymoon to have any misunderstanding occur, but 
their marriage was a peculiar one, since they have 
hardly known each other long enough to understand 
the little failings, the defects we all have in our 
armor. This will wear away, since there are true love 
and appreciation beneath it. 

When they hear what Bob has to say it decides one 
member of the party, and as this is the sun around 
which the other planets revolve, they readily agree 
with what she says. 

“It is to New York. The search must go on there 
— unless you are weary of helping me, ” and this last 
is uttered in such a pathetic tone that Bob, as well as 
the two others at once enter a decided protest; they 
are delighted to serve her, and would go to the end 
of the world if necessary, which proves what a hold 
Mrs. Bob has upon their hearts, and makes good 
her claim to the title of a witch. 

Consequently, they again embark, and are whirled 
to Washington. Bob, intent on duty, finding he has 
half an hour’s time here, asks numerous questions of 
the uniformed officials in the depot, and picks up a 
few scraps of information. 

Now they leave for New York, on board the Con- 
gressional Limited, and the miles are clicked away 
behind them as regularly as clockwork. Baltimore is 
placed in their rear and it is on to Philadelphia. 

They have had so much difficulty that they sin- 
cerely hope there will be no further delay on the 


20 i HE ABB AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 

journey, which is hardly likely, since they are upon 
one of the best regulated railroads in the country. 

Fortune is kind. 

In due season they reach the great metropolis, and 
are taken to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. 

Bob is at home now. He feels like himself when in 
New York, where he has long held sway. There are 
not many points of interest, from the sights of the 
Bowery to the parks, art museums, and studios that 
he cannot show’ a friend. 

Bob Pemberton married and settled is a different 
individual from the bachelor. The old life, with its 
gay times, has given way to the new one, and he in- 
tends to be a model benedict, if devotion to the 
charming Mrs. Bob will constitute him such. 

Another day will perhaps open new vistas in the 
scenery, and developments may be expected that will 
cause their business to advance. As it is, all are tired 
at eleven to-night. 

Bob has occasion to go below after all the rest have 
retired to their rooms. He meets a quiet looking man 
with whom he shakes hands. 

“Got your message, Mr. Pemberton, and I’m ready 
to pick up your business.” 

“Glad of it, my dear fellow. I remember how clev- 
erly you did that little affair down in Wall street, 
when I engaged you. I have even a more delicate 
work on hand now.” 

“Two to one there’s a woman in it.” 

Bob laughs. 

“Quite right, but it’s my wife,” he says. 

“Wkat! married, Mr, Pemberton?” 


HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 205 

‘‘Yes, sudden affair. As you are to go into this 
business with me, it is only right that you should 
hear the details. Sit down and listen.” 

In ten minutes he has given all the salient points 
of the affair, then a number of questions are asked, 
which he answers squarely — just like Bob Pemberton 
does everything. 

^ . “That will do, sir. You will hear from me.” 

“When?” 

“Karly in the morning. I can do better work in 
the night. Rely on me. This may seem a hard nut 
for you to crack, but it is right in the line of my 
business. Good-night, sir.” 

So Bob goes up to his room satisfied that his 
business is being accomplished while he sleeps. 
Gypsy does not ask questions, and he ventures to say 
nothing about what has been done, waiting to see 
what the morning may bring forth. 

It brings the secret messenger. Bob is up early 
and reading the morning paper down in the reading- 
room, when some one stands beside him ; he looks 
up and receives a shock. 

“Good Heaven! it is Rudolph Gordon, alive and 
in the flesh,” is the thought that flashes upon him; 
and he feels a cold chill chase up and down his 
spinal column at the bare idea of coming in contact 
with one who has been in his grave since last they 
met. 

Then he looks more closely at the old gentleman 
who stands there with rather a quizzical smile upon 
his face; he seems to suddenly detecta difference 
somewhere, although unable to say just what it is. 


206 


HEARD AT THE FIFTH AVENUE. 


True, a man who has passed through the experience 
Squire Gordon has, of late, might be excused for ap- 
pearing unlike himself, but this is not just the true 
inwardness of the case. 

“Well, Mr. Pemberton, would you believe I had 
found the right party?’’ asks the old gentleman, with 
a chuckle at Bob’s amazement. 

“Bless — my — soul, if it isn’t ” 

“Craig Marvel — yours to command,” with a mock 
salaam. 

“Well, one thing I’m sure of before I ask a ques- 
tion — you’ve seen the squire.” 

The other smiles in a peculiar way. Bob even 
remembers it as one of the Gordon tricks, and is 
more than ever amazed at the wonderful ingenuity 
of this clever man. 

“Seen him — well, I reckon I’ve passed through 
some wonderful adventures since I left you here near 
midnight. Seen him, Mr. Pemberton — I believe, on 
my soul, I have saved his life.” 

“Relate it,” returns Bob, quietly; not that he has 
any reason to believe this man is stretching the truth, 
for he knows Mr. Craig Marvel is the soul of honor. 

During the next thirty minutes he hears one of the 
oddest, most improbable stories that ever fell from 
human lips. Rider Haggard was never in it; this 
man of New York from his own actual bona fide ex- 
perience in his daily and nightly work could give the 
author of “She” points, and beat him out of the 
game. 

Bob takes it all in ; he never doubts a single iota 
of the story, because he knows the man who is speak- 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 


207 


ing knows him as one who could not be induced to 
stretch a point; who has seen and heard all he 
delivers. 

When finally Craig says “that’s all,” Bob reaches 
out and shakes hands with him, exclaiming: 

“You’ve done nobly, my dear fellow, nobly.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 

The next point on the programme is to find Joe 
and the Senator, and give them an idea as to how 
the game works. 

By the time Craig leaves him. Bob finds that it is 
the hour for breakfast, so the story must keep until a 
more convenient season. Under ordinary circum- 
stances they might talk it over, but a breakfast at a 
hotel means a waiter hovering over one continually. 

So they proceed to the dining-room, and break 
their fast. Gypsy is inclined to be a little sober this 
morning, as though there are certain things bearing 
upon her mind. Bob notices this, although he makes 
no remark. He feels that they are on the verge of 
some strange development, connected with this case. 

Another of the party seems unusually grave, and 
this is Senator John. As a general thing, he is gay 
and full of spirits, but this is not the case now. Bob 
secretly wonders what ails him. 


208 ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 

Thus it happens that Joe is really the only live 
member in the party. He manages to joke consider- 
ably, but is considerably taken aback when he sees 
the peculiar way in which his fun is taken. 

“Great Scott! what’s come over this party, my 
dear fellow? It seems like a funeral procession to 
me,” he says, aside, to Bob. 

“Wait, I will explain part of it after breakfast,” 
is the reply he receives. 

With this he has to be content until the proper 
time comes, which will now be very sOon. 

“Come with me to our little parlor,” says Bob; “I 
mean all of you. I have a certain communication to 
make. ” 

Gypsy’s face flashes with sudden intelligence. 

“You have been at work already. My dear, what 
is it all about?” 

“I will a tale unfold that must harrow up your 
soul and chill your blood — isn’t that about the way 
it runs. Senator? Well, here goes.” 

Then he tells how he happened to think of the de- 
tective, and wired him from Philadelphia to come to 
the Fifth Avenue; that he told the story of the pre- 
vious night, just before retiring, and received the 
other’s report before breakfast. 

He sketches the man’s adventures, tells what 
methods he took to find the man who came from 
Richmond, and how he believed he finally had him 
located in a certain house. 

“The great trouble was to find out whether he 
was the right party. Craig is a peculiar fellow — 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 209 

makes a specialty of disguises — can imitate any man 
or woman to a dot — beats any actor I ever saw. 

“Well, he got a look at Rudolph Gordon leaving 
the house ; went to his rooms, and presently appeared 
on the scene a good counterpart of the old gentleman. 

“•He carries skeleton keys, and easily entered the 
rooms from which the other came. The house was a 
tenement of French flats and seemed to have numer- 
ous lodgers. Once inside Craig says he was aston- 
ished to see the style of things, and made up his mind 
this flat must have been furnished to bring a good, 
round rental, for luxurious chairs, sofas, rich curtains, 
and handsome pictures abounded. 

“Craig is business from the start, and I may as 
well say right here an athlete of no mean ability. He 
takes all this in at a glance, and then, with a grunt, 
goes to work searching.” 

At this Gypsy starts and her bright eyes are fastened 
eagerly on her husband’s face. 

“Did he find it?” she murmurs, and Bob, smiling 
fondly at her, shakes his head in the negative. 

“You shall hear all, my dear, and judge of this 
wonderful man’s ability,” he says. 

“I beg pardon — please proceed.” 

“He begins to rummage, and I reckon it takes 
your modern detective to conduct a search without 
so disturbing things as to excite suspicion. No time 
is wasted — he knows just where to look, and skips 
from place to place. 

“In the midst of his search the bogus Rudolph 
hears a deep sigh, and looks up to see a lady there 
regarding him anxiously.” 


210 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 


“Could you describe her, Bob?’’ 

It is Senator John who asks this question, and as 
the attention of the other is directed toward him, he 
realizes, for the first time, that John Archer is un- 
usually interested. He sits there with both hands 
grasping the arms of his chair, and gazing stead- 
fastly into Bob’s face. Indeed, the other cannot re- 
member having ever seen his friend so much in 
earnest. Gypsy looks at him in a troubled way. 

“Well, Craig did not waste much time in describ- 
ing the lady. He said she was middle-aged but re- 
markably handsome. She seemed to be watching him 
as though she believed him to be Rudolph Gordon 
and yet feared for his sanity. 

“When she spoke she used a soothing tone as 
though she would quiet him. 

‘What did she call him?” asks Senator John. 

“ ‘Father,’ Craig said.” 

John Archer turns his face away; a band happens 
to be passing the square, and it gives him an excuse 
to go to the window, though he only remains a 
minute or so, just long enough to compose his 
features. 

“Craig hardly knows what to say, and begins to 
mutter something, when the lady, darting forward, 
clutches his arm, and looking in his face, shrieks and 
swoons. 

“That is enough to demoralize most men ; but this 
friend of mine is used to all manner of difficulties, 
and he considers this only an incident. Without 
showing any alarm, he gently raises the lady in his 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 211 

arms and places her in an easy-chair, after which he 
goes on with his search. 

“Nothing of consequence rewards him, so that he 
sees no reason for remaining. It happens, however, 
that his adventures have only begun. 

“As he turns toward the door to go, he discovers 
other visitors. Three men, their faces covered by 
masks, have entered. They spread out like a fan — 
and his retreat is utterly cut off. 

“They advance from all sides, thinking they have 
the old man demoralized. To their utter amazement 
he squares off, as might a Corbett, and meets them 
eagerly. 

“I would give fifty dollars to be able to see that 
little circus. If you knew Craig you’d appreciate the 
situation. I said he was something of an athlete; 
the fact is, he has a bushel of medals which he has 
won as a member of our athletic club, for all-round 
athletics. As a boxer I never met his equal ; he has 
punished me many a time.” 

“The brute,” murmurs Mrs. Bob, who, neverthe- 
less, seems decidedly interested in the recital. 

“He gave them the benefit of his knowledge, and 
practiced all his scientific moves upon them, no 
doubt greatly to their edification. Craig passed over 
the scene very lightly, but it must have been a 
menagerie. He simply said he had a little amusement 
— that one fellow picked himself up in the hall and 
vamosed — a second he had the pleasure of kicking 
down the stairs, when upon returning to demolish 
the small chap he found him hanging out of the win- 
dow to the fire-escape, down which he went with a 


212 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 


rush when the mock Rudolph Gordon made for him. ” 

Joe is shaking with laughter. 

“That is superb — never heard of a better scene off 
the boards. Shall jot it down — know a playwriter 
who could make a great hit with it. Was that all, 
Bob, my boy?” 

“All? Not by a long shot. Didn’t I say Craig had 
met with enough adventures in an hour to fill the 
ordinary novel? 

“You see, when he had cleared the field in this 
way Graig is a little out of breath. He thinks he 
might as well sit down and rest a minute before 
leaving such luxurious apartments. Sitting there, 
and getting his second wind, his eyes fall upon the 
face of the lady who has not yet come out of her swoon. 
He speculates regarding her identity — who is she, 
living thus apparently alone in such grand style — 
what relation does she bear to old Squire Gordon to 
call him ‘father?’ ” 

“Father!” murmurs Gypsy, whose face looks a 
little pale — “oh I what if all that dreadful woman 
said to me could be true.” 

Bob glances, not at his wife, but in the direction 
of the Senator. It seems that he is growing more and 
more interested in John Archer, as by degrees the 
vail is being raised, and he sees things in a new light. 
The Senator’s countenance is working with an emo- 
tion even his powerful will cannot control ; he listens 
eagerly, almost holding his breath, and yet endeavors 
to appear composed — quite at his ease. 

This is a new complication. Up to within the last 
hour Bob never suspected that John Archer has en- 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 213 

tered this game with any other motive in view than 
of philanthropy — assisting a friend. Now the scales 
begin to fall from his eyes, and he sees as through a 
glass darkly. 

“Craig recovers his wind, in sporting parlance — 
trick I’ve fallen into, my dear, from athletic associa- 
tion — and is thinking of again starting to leave the 
room, when, as he rises from the chair, he faces the 
genuine Gordon entering. 

“Phew!” exclaims the Senator. 

“Great guns! what a climax,” says Joe. 

“Gentlemen — and ladies, imagine the situation. 
Two Richmonds in the field. It happens that only a 
night or so ago Craig attended a Shakespearian play 
— you’ve all seen it. ‘Two Dromios, ’ as acted by two 
of our brightest stars. Its odd situations are fresh in 
his mind, and like a flash it comes over him that here 
is an excellent chance to bring out some of the points 
in the play. He conceives the notion of mimicing 
the old man believing it is his best hold. 

“When Gordon catches sight of what seems to be 
his double he starts back as if amazed — so does Craig. 
Then Rudolph advances a pace, and raising an arm 
shakes his fist at the other — ditto Craig, at Rudolph. 
This seems to stagger the old man, for he throws up 
both hands in alarm, and Craig follows the example. 

“It is too much — this last straw about breaks the 
camel’s back, and the old gentleman beats a hasty 
retreat, crying that he had ’em again, he was sure 
he felt the symptoms coming on.” 

At this Joe snickers; he is the only one whose in- 
terest is purely of a friendly nature, and he never 


214 


ADVENTURES OF ONE NIGHT. 


could let a joke large or small pass him by unnoticed. 

“Of course Craig supposed his adventures were at 
an end, although he began to believe he was fated to 
be confronted by the whole city in detachments. 

“This time he manages to leave the flat, and is 
descending the stairs, when a door that has been ajar 
suddenly opened and before he can say Jack Robin- 
son a hand catches him by the arm, a woman’s hand, 
too, and he is unceremoniously drawn into a room.’.’ 

“Oh! Bob,” cries his wife, blushing like a rose. 

“Well, you see, Craig is as strong as an athlete, 
but he is also something of an Adonis, and even 
Samson was powerless in the hands of his Delilah, 
you remember. 

“Craig has in that one glimpse seen that the 
woman is beautiful in face and charming in figure; 
naturally he is not capable of making the desperate 
resistance that would have followed had she been ugly. 

Bob looks around, Gypsy pouts and frowns, the 
Senator nods in a comprehensive way, while Joe says, 
frankly : 

“Certainly not — human nature all around. Can’t 
help it, you know. There is planted in our heart a 
love for the beautiful and a dislike for what is ugly,” 
and he looks in a beaming way at Gypsy — a look that 
makes her feel satisfied with his explanation. 

“When Craig described this enchantress to me I 
knew another one of the characters in our little drama 
had entered by R. C., which means right centre, and 
advanced upon the stage, as she has on many a 
mimic one, for he pictured her as plain as day, the 
vengeful actress, Josephine Armitage.” 


THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT 


215 


BOOK FOUR. 

The Widow of the Alhambra Flats. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT OF THE ALHAMBRA 
FLATS. 

Bob has had a little stage training himself, and 
knows when to halt after reaching a point which 
might be termed a crisis. So he waits to see what 
effect his announcement will have upon the others. 

The Senator looks surprised ; Joe, who has heard 
about the actress, and is not a stranger to her, moves 
uneasily in his seat at mention of her name, while 
Gypsy shows her woman’s feeling of contempt toward 
one who had made out to be her rival, by saying: 

“Poor Mr. Craig,” and in such a sympathetic man- 
ner that Bob is compelled to grin before he resumes 
his narrative. 

“When Craig finds himself face to face with 
Josephine, his first thought is that she must, in some 
way, be concerned in the game — you see, these men 
of his line are uncommonly bright, and can get at the 
kernel inside a shell much sooner than most of us. 

“She takes him for Rudolph Gordon, that is evi- 
dent, and believes she has an old man to twist around 
her finger. He plays his part well, and does not by 
any sign betray his double dealing. 


216 THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT. 

“Josephine Armitage is connected by the ties of 
kinship with the Gordons, through Gypsy’s father, 
whose sister married an Armitage — am I right, 
dear?” 

“Yes, yes,” she replies, eag-erly, her eyes glued 
upon his face, and no one notices that another mem- 
ber of the party nods his head in the affirmative and 
mutters low words to himself. 

“She has not lost a particle of the venom she feels 
toward Gypsy, and it is with this spirit of hatred in 
her heart that she works now — that she lays her 
plans to capture the old man. 

“I shall not try to repeat her words; she desires 
Rudolph Gordon to sign a paper, and Craig makes out 
to consent very reluctantly. Of course, no matter 
what the document might be it could have no value, 
as the signature he put upon it is a*s much like 
Squire Gordon’s spider chirography as black re- 
sembles white. 

“She appears satisfied, and kisses the old man, as 
might a loving daughter, and shows him to the door, 
through which Craig departs, chuckling mightily 
over this last strange adventure.” 

“Was that all?” asks Joe. 

“Not quite. He had one more little affair, and it 
caused him some annoyance. 

“As he is leaving the building, having ac- 
complished all he set out to perform, he suddenly 
hears a voice exclaim : 

“Zat is ze man — arrest him !” 

“Craig squares off, but discovering tliat it is a blue- 
coat who drops a heavy hand on his shoulder, he 


THE MYSTEBIOm TENANT. 217 

thinks discretion the better part of valor, and signi- 
fies his willingness to accompany him to the station. 

“Lawyer Merle trots along at their heels to pre- 
fer charges of assault and battery, which his appear- 
ance amply proves, for he did not reach the ground 
from that window without some bruises. Of course 
he makes a fictitious case out of it, and the captain 
in charge pretends to commit the old prisoner, for 
Craig has already slyly whispered his name to him. 

“When Monsieur Merle has gone, of course Craig, 
after telling his story to the police captain, is at lib- 
erty to depart, and his string of adventures for the 
night are done. Now, what do you think of what he 
has picked up?” 

Joe says, enthusiastically, “Wonderful.” The 
Senator remarks that it is a good night’s work, while 
Mrs. Bob claps her hands and cries “bravo.” 

Thus they stamp their approval upon it, and Bob 
is satisfied that he has done the right thing. 

“I must see the lady who swooned, the lady who 
lives in those elegant rooms, who was so beautiful, 
and yet so sad,” says Gypsy, in low voice, her mood 
changing again. 

“You think you know her?” asks the Senator, in 
a careless way, looking toward the window, through 
which still floats the music of the band in the square. 

“No — yes — that is, strange thoughts, suspicions, if 
you will, have arisen in my mind of late. God alone 
knows whether they be true or not, though I fer- 
vently pray I may find them so,” she replies, shaken 
’^ith secret emotion. 

“Amen,” says the Senator, solemnly. 


218 


THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT. 


She looks at him in wonder, and Bob moves un- 
easily, the feeling of suspicion with regard to his 
friend arising once more. 

“lam deeply interested — more than I can remem- 
ber ever being in any case before — both on Bob’s ac- 
count and your own,” the Senator deems it his duty 
to explain, and they accept it, Gypsy without again 
thinking it strange, though her husband reserves his 
suspicions. 

“Did he give you the address. Bob?” asks Joe. 

“Certainly; a fine fellow he would be not to do 
such a thing. There it is on an old envelope ; make 
a note of it. ” 

As Bob produces the paper, the others bend for- 
ward to read it. Senator John instantly has his note- 
book and pencil out. 

“Eager to assist a friend,” is Bob’s mental com- 
ment, “but, all the same, I have my thoughts about 
the matter, and shall await developments.” 

“I wonder what became of grandfather after he 
fled from his counterpart,” Gypsy says. 

“O! I reckon he came back again, after a time, 
when he found he was in his right mind. If he should 
not turn up we’ll make the rounds of the hospitals 
and look for an old gentleman suffering from an 
attack of delirium tremens.” 

“Poor grandfather. Perhaps, after all, it would 
have been better had he remained in his grave. It is a 
terrible thing to have such a determined nature that 
one will ever fight against the decrees of fate, and 
return from the tomb,” and in this no one venture^ 
to differ with her. 


THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT. 


219 


‘‘What is our prograimne?” 

They all look toward Bob, as though, in this emer- 
gency, he is the recognized leader, and must plan for 
the general good. So he bestirs himself to grasp the 
situation and evolves an idea. 

“Since they know Squire Gordon goes to the 
French flats, and Monsieur Merle will not be apt to 
jive up the fight, we must expect more trouble with 
them and be prepared. You desire to meet your 
grandfather face to face, Mrs. Bob?” 

“I do,” she says, firmly, “and at that place where 
the lady, who is beautiful yet sad, seems to live. 
When may we go? I am very anxious.” 

“At once,” says the Senator, decisively. 

“Thank you. Senator John. I am sure of one good 
friend, at any rate, who has my interests at heart,” 
at which Bob smiles, as he can well afford to, know- 
ing that she adores him. 

“I heartily concur in that proposition,” he says, 
“and move that we start immediately.” 

“A carriage?” asks Joe. 

“Yes, if you please. Gypsy, where are your wraps 
— the air is chilly?” 

As Joe hurries off on his errand and the Senator 
steps over to his room to get his fall overcoat. Bob 
looks his wife in the face, looks at her with a smile 
and kindly expression. 

“My dear girl, you have something to tell me a 
little later on — not now. I can even give a fair guess 
as to its nature, knowing, some of the secrets of your 
house, for your grandfather, when he believed him-, 
self to be dying, took me into his confidence^” 


220 


THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT. 


“Oh, Bob ’’ 

“Never mind. All I want to say is, trust me above 
every one in the world. You belong to me; your in- 
terests are mine, and I desire with all my heart that 
you succeed.” 

“Oh, Bob, I ” 

“No, no, not a word now. I<et me help you on 
with your wraps, and we will soon know what draws 
Rudolph Gordon to one whom he hated up to the 
time of his supposed death.” 

“What if it should be. Bob. I am all of a tremble. 
I never felt so in all my life. I have dreamed of 
some such thing, but never dared think of it in my 
waking hour^.” ^ 

“Say no more, my dear wife, until we learn the 
truth. I would advise you not to expect too much, 
for there might be a grievous disappointment before 
you.” 

“Bob, your advice is sound. I will try to moderate 
my expectations, and let them go back to what they 
were before — a desire to simply save my grandfather 
from the plots and schemes of his unnatural son. 
Colonel Cornelius.” 

They are now ready to leave the hotel. Gypsy 
seems quite self-possessed, as though she has 
mastered her weakness, and Bob feels doubly proud 
to know he has a wife who can thus control emotions 
that as a general thing get the better of womenkind. 

Joe returns. 

“Carriage in waiting — fine covered vehicle. Just 
hold us all — that is, if you wish us to go along.” 


THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT 


221 


‘‘Wouldn’t have it otherwise,” says Gypsy, 
quickly, while her husband declares: 

‘‘You remember what I told you, Joe; we’re all in 
this business, and whatever may come of it there are 
to be secrets from no one. You must know all. Come, 
we will go. ” 

Entering the vehicle, they are driven away, and 
Bob having given the direction he received from his 
friend Craig does not concern himself any more 
about it, beyond repeating the same to the experi- 
enced and knowing Jehu who holds the ribbons. New 
York hack drivers are supposed to have the whole 
map of the great city before their mind’s eye at any 
and all times, so there can be no problem of routes 
too deep for their solving. 

Bob desires to keep his wife from worrying too 
much over the possible developments that may occur, 
and to this end he devotes his whole energies. When 
he goes into a thing heart and soul, he is pretty sure 
to get there, and before they have been in the vehicle 
five minutes he makes some remark that sets Gypsy 
laughing and breaks the reserve. 

Joe catches the spirit, and adds his mite, so that it 
is not long before they seem to be quite a merry 
company. 

The carriage stops with a jerk alongside the curb 
and Bob looks out. 

‘‘Number 271 — the Alhambra flats — why, we’re 
here, friends.” 

‘‘So soon !” cries Joe. 

Gypsy sinks back with a sigh. 

“Courage,” whispers the voice of the man she 


222 


THE MYSTERIOUS TENANT. 


loves — it thrills her through and through, and she 
immediately braces up, and becomes her brave self 
again. 

Bob assists her from the vehicle, and they stand 
before the imposing building looking up. 

“And this is the place where she lives,” is the 
thought of Gypsy. 

“Here Craig had his wonderful adventures,” says 
Joe to himself. 

The Senator has been unusually solemn — more 
than once they have endeavored to make him smile, 
but the attempt produces such poor results that they 
are ready to let it drop. 

Following Bob, they enter the great door and meet 
the janitor. 

“We desire to see the lady in Flat Thirteen.” 

“Mrs. Wade — sorry, sir, she’s gone,” is the stun- 
ning answer received. 

“Gone — moved away? and all her furniture?” 

“Bless you, she rented the flat furnished.” 

“Then who can tell us where to look for her?” 
cries Gypsy, in a despairing tone. 

“Perhaps I may be of assistance, lady,” says 
another voice just behind them. 


BOB FINDS A FATHER-IN-LAW. 


223 


CHAPTER XXVL 

BOB FINDS — A FATHFR-IN-LAW. 

The}^ turn around to discover near by a man whose 
features are of a pronounced Jewish cast. He seems 
to regard them with a smile, and has evidently 
heard all that has been said, though they never 
dreamed any one was within hearing distance. 

Bob steps toward him with a frown; his first 
thought is that this man represents some invention of 
the enemy to circumvent them — that he may even 
be concerned in the disappearance of the tenant of 
the French flat. 

Hence it is his intention to demolish him with a 
look, to make him understand as it were, that every- 
thing is known. With this idea in view, he faces the 
other, receives a bland smile, and hears him say : 

‘‘Well, Bob, old fellow, they got a little ahead of 
you this time, eh ?” 

“Great Scott! it’s Craig himself,” ejaculates Bob, 
almost floored by the news. 

“Who else should it be, my dear man?” returns 
the dandified Israelite, as he twirls a pair of eye- 
glasses in his fingers a la Lord Beaconsfield. 

-“This is an immense surprise.” 

“Pleasure, too, let us hope.” 

“Indeed it is. Gypsy, my dear, this is my old 
friend, Craig — and this is Mrs. Bob.” 

“Delighted to meet one I have heard so much of, 


224 BOB FINDS- A FATHEB-IN-LAW. 

and who succeeded in carrying off iiiy bachelor 
friend, Bob Pemberton.” 

“Oh !” she says, as she gives him her hand, “it 
was Bob who did all the carrying — didn’t you, sir?” 

“And the dearest load I ever had thrust upon me 
— never will forget that forest fire while I have life. 
But, Craig, you said something, just now, whether 
in joke or earnest, that concerns us.” 

“I meant it.” 

“You know this lady of the French flats had de- 
parted from here?” 

“Yes, and that you would be coming to see her, so 
I waited patiently about till Mary did appear, as the 
old rhyme has it. ” 

“Bob introduce me to your friend.” 

“Beg pardon, Joe,” and both Hooker and the 
Senator are soon shaking hands cordially with the 
other. 

It might be noticed — Bob sees it — that Craig 
glances keenly from under his heavy eyebrows at the 
Senator, as though he has an especial interest in 
him, and as Bob entertains certain faintly defined 
suspicions himself, he makes a mental note of this 
fact for future reference. 

“Tell us what you know of this flitting, Craig.” 

The man whose business it is to look after others 
and who has given his especial attention to this case, 
leans against the wall — the janitor has been called 
away, so they are alone, the little company whose 
interest is involved in this matter. 

“I shall only give the facts; it does not pay to 


BOB FINDS- A FATHER-IN-LAW. 


225 


Speak of the many calculations I indulged in, or the 
way in which I managed to learn certain things. 

“The lady of whom I told you left this house at 
eight o’clock this morning. A wagon carried her 
trunks and boxes. On the seat of that wagon were 
two individuals, the driver and his helper. I chanced 
to be that assistant.” 

“Good for you,” comments Bob. 

“In this way I learned just where she went, spoke 
to her, and even stopped with the driver to arrange 
the trunks and open the boxes. When you are ready 
to go I’ll lead you to the new apartment house which 
she now occupies.” 

“And the old gentleman?” 

“Is, I believe, with her. He seems considerably 
toned down by his night’s experience, and if I were 
asked my opinion, I would say he is near the point 
of a relapse.” 

Mrs. Bob shivers at his words. 

“Poor grandfather! his life has been a strange 
and hard one ; and the same fate seems bound to pur- 
sue him to the end. Perhaps there may be something 
of retribution about it.” 

Bob does not forget the words ; he has himself 
fancied more than once about the same thing. 

“What about Colonel Corneel?” 

Craig smiles. 

“They got over their scare of last night, and have 
been at work ever since, but you know that class of 
men do more at night than when the sun shines, so 
we hardly need fear them. lam more concerned about 
a woman’s wiles. ” 


226 


BOB FINDS- A FATHEB-IN-LAW. 


“Meaning Josephine Armitage. ” 

“Yes, she managed that little affair of last night 
so remarkably well that I give her credit for great 
engineering ability. If she has by any means found 
out the truth with regard to the game I played, we’ll 
see more of her before a great while. ” 

“She is a strange woman, and I am sorry she has 
conceived such a hatred toward me. It is one of the 
shadows on my life.” 

Bob assumes the guidance of the party. 

“Do you want to go there now, Gypsy?” 

“Yes — no. I am only anxious to do the right 
thing — would I could tell what was for the best.” 

A little more conversation and our friends return 
to the hotel, baffled, it is true, for the present, but with 
strong hopes, based on a good foundation, that they 
will eventually succeed. 

All adjourn to the private parlor that is a portion 
of Bob’s elegant suite of rooms. 

On the way, Pemberton is drawn aside by the Sen- 
ator, whose face has a look of eagerness upon it Bob 
cannot remember ever seeing before. 

“I wish to see you alone, my boy. I have some- 
thing of immense importance to communicate. Ar- 
range it,” says the Senator, and Bob knows another 
step has been taken in the game that will, in all 
probability, advance their cause. 

“I will excuse myself — wait here.” 

He begs his wife to entertain the gentlemen for a 
brief time as he has some business below, and in a 
brief time joins the Senator. 

“Now I am at your service, my dear man.” 


BOB FINDS— A FATHEE-IN-LAW. 


227 


‘‘Good — Bob, lias it ever struck you that I might 
have a history back of all these years in Congress and 
traveling?” 

“Jove! is this news about yourself, Senator — I 

thought ” and Bob stops, fearing that he has 

come very near stepping on dangerous ground. 

“You supposed it concerned the business of the 
hour — well, you are right — it does both, for they are 
connected. ” 

“Ah !” and Bob nods knowingly. 

“I desire to open to your gaze, my boy, a heart 
that has been shut up for fifteen years and more. I 
have laughed and been a jovial fellow ; but under it 
all carried a load of misery few men would be able 
to uphold. ” 

“Fifteen years — yes, goon,” mutters Bob, men- 
tally calculating, “she could have been three years 
old, then.” 

“Many things have been kept in profound secrecy 
for these years. I myself have believed certain facts 
that have turned out fallacies. Bob, you never even 
knew that once I was married.” 

“Well, you told me recently. I might have guessed 
the fact by a dozen different things.” 

“Yes, I had a happy home once — happy in spite 
of the fact that the father of my wife hated me like 
one might a mad dog, happy until a serpent entered 
my Eden, and destroyed it, making me a wanderer, 
and for a year a sceptic with regard to human nature ; 
but, thank God, I overcame this.” 

“I should say so,” remarks Bob, who finds it hard 


228 BOB FINBS-A FATHEB-IN-LAW, 

to believe this gentle-mannered man could ever have 
doubted and been cynical. 

‘‘Kad not a new light dawned upon me I should 
have kept my secret always, and carried it to the 
grave with me. In a strange way I was brought to a 
point where I looked upon a face that thrilled me 
through and through ; it was so like that of my lost 
Ruth, whom I had been led to believe was dead. The 
name attracted my attention first — then that face. 
Bob, there came a sudden suspicion — an inspiration, 
that I had been deceived, basely hoodwinked by that 
vengeful old man — that I was gazing on the counte- 
nance of one who belonged to me — my daughter!” 

He stops a short minute, not for effect, but because 
emotion overpowers him. 

‘H said nothing, my boy, but did a powerful 
amount of thinking. Time passed. My quiet investi- 
gation began to bear fruit. Here I picked up a 
crumb, and it fitted a niche — there I made a little 
discovery and it was just what I wanted. Bob, there 
is no longer a doubt that I have found my own,” 
joyfully. 

“Good Heaven, Senator!” 

“What is it, my dear boy?” 

“You can only refer to one being.” 

“Estelle — my lost darling — my child.” 

“Listen — you were my friend — I have confided in 
you as such, but that is ended.” 

“Why, Bob, surely I can see no reason ” 

“Reason — man alive, who ever heard of a young 
husband confiding — ha, ha! — his secrets to — his 


LOOKING BACKWARD. 


229 


father-in-law? Senator — you know I am joking. 
From my heart, I can truly say Heaven be praised!” 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

I^OOKING BACKWARD. 

The two men who have so long been friends, and 
are now united by even a stronger bond, shake hands, 
as it were, to cement the new ties, and such a grasp 
with persons of their character means volumes. 

“You have revealed a strange matter, John.” 

“But you have not heard all, my boy.” 

“Ah! there is more to tell — you have found your 
long-lost daughter — you suspect that this beautful, 
sad lady of the Alhambra flats ” 

“Is my wife. ” 

“That would indeed be strange. She goes to the 
world as Mrs. Wade.” 

“What’s in a name?” 

“That reminds me — my wife was Estelle Gordon 
— how could she be so if your child?” 

“Her name is Estelle Gordon Archer, though she 
evidently never heard the last part of it.” 

“Strange.” 

“Not at all. The old man hated me so thoroughly 
that my name was poison to him. How it was all 
done is a deep mystery to me, but one I mean to solve 


230 


LOOKING BACKWARD. 


now to the bitter end. The results of his scheming 
are very evident ; each of them has been led to believe 
the other dead, while I have lived all these years 
fully convinced that fate overtook my wife while run- 
ning away from me with another man, and my inno- 
cent child with them,’’ groaning. “I told you to a 
picnic, but it was more than that — she apparently fled 
from me.” 

“The old heathen,” mutters Bob, indignantly. 

“You can see for yourself how far and relentlessly 
the Gordon pride carried him. He has wrecked my 
life, but thank Heaven, I have learned to forgive 
even my worst enemy. I have no time to hate, but, 
now that the opportunity has come, must bend every 
energy to the task of learning the truth.” 

“Good for you. Senator, and I am with you, heart 
and soul. What news for Mrs. Bob. She will love 
you even as I have done.” 

“Do you think so?” he asks, tenderly; “imagine 
the life I have led, Bob; a man who once knows 
the tender love ties of home, and has everything 
snatched from his grasp, is to be pitied indeed.” 

“You are right, my friend. But, tell me, what 
reason have you for thinking that this lady can be 
your wife?” 

“Hark, then. In the first place your friend de- 
scribed her as a lady of middle age, with gray hair, 
beautiful and sad. Ruth was lovely as a girl, and 
surely if this be my lost wife, she has had enough 
to make her sad. 

“Go a step farther — the old man had but two chil- 
dren, and Cornelius turned out such a scamp that he 


LOOKINa BACKWARD. 


231 


washed his hands of him altogether. Gypsy can tell 
you that for years he has been in the habit of taking 
periodical trips to New York. She believed it to be 
on business, but we know it was to see his daughter, 
who lived there. 

“There is no other person on earth in whom 
Rudolph Gordon could take an interest but her. I 
am almost positive of it, and only require one look at 
the lady of the Alhambra.” 

“You shall have it. Perhaps, then, you could 
hazard a guess with regard to another thing.” 

“What is it?” 

“The old man carries something that Colonel Cor- 
ned desires to get possession of very much — can this 
be family treasures, valuable gems or papers?” 

“Not knowing the peculiarities of Squire Gordon 
for the last fifteen years, I cannot positively say, 
and only guess. I believe he has a packet of papers 
relating to this affair of mine — ^of Ruth’s. Many 
things point to it. You remember the two men went 
to Gordon Manor to look for it. Perhaps they believe 
his last will and testament may be among these 
papers, and this destroyed would leave Colonel Cor- 
ned the heir by some old will.” 

“Yes, and you remember that even Gypsy was 
anxious to find something when we were at the Gor- 
don Manor; she searched three separate hiding-places 
in vain and was dreadfully disappointed at not find- 
ing it. ” 

“I remember every instance, for though outwardly 
calm, I was secretly trembling in every nerve as she 
looked in vain. She must have understood for a long 


232 


LOOKING BACKWARD. 


time that when her grandfather died and she had 
access to his papers, there would be revealed some 
secret which affected the past, for she has apparently 
had reason to believe there is a mystery hanging 
over her life. ” 

^‘When shall we tell my wife?’’ 

The Senator starts. 

“I hardly know. I long to clasp her in my arms, 
and yet, do you understand, fear lest he may have 
managed, in some insidious way, to have poisoned 
her ears against me. ” 

“That fear, I am sure, is groundless. I will sound 
Gypsy and learn all.” 

“Thanks, my dear boy, from my heart; and if all 
is well, call me in. Together we will be better fitted 
to discover whether the sad lady of the Alhambra 
flats is the one so dear to us.” 

“Have you then forgiven her?” 

“Long, long ago; but of late I have been wonder- 
ing whether, after all, there was anything to forgive. ” 

“What?” 

“I mean this — that if Rudolph Gordon was so 
shrewd as to deceive me into the belief that both of 
my darlings were dead, it would have been an easy 
matter for him to have made it appear that Ruth had 
run away with another. This suspicion has been 
growing into a conviction, and when her story, if it 
so be that this is my wife, is told, I firmly believe we 
shall find that the wretched father to have been at the 
bottom of it all. ” 

Bob is deeply impressed with what the Senator has 
told him, and when he leaves that worthy it is to go 


LOOKING BACKWARD. 


233 


at once to where his wife may be seen. He finds liis 
friend just making his adieu, and has a chance to say 
good- night. Joe accompanies the gentlemen down 
stairs. Perhaps his intuitive faculties tell him that 
Bob and his wife may have something to talk over 
together. Joe has had some acquaintance among mar- 
ried folks, and knows considerable about their ways. 

At any rate, it suits Bob exactly. He has upon his 
mind the matter which constituted the burden of his 
recent conversation with John Archer, and recognizes 
in this a Heaven-sent opportunity to bring matters 
to a focus. 

So he gently seats his wife in a chair, somewhat 
to her surprise, and faces her. 

“I want to speak on a serious matter, my dear, but 
don^t get alarmed. I trust it is something that will 
bring you great happiness.’’ 

“Bob — is it about. her?” she says, in a low voice, 
as if actually frightened. 

“Indirectly — yes. You have been keeping some- 
thing from me, my dear.” 

“Yes, yes, but I meant ” 

“I know you did, and I made up my mind to await 
your own good time, but certain circumstances have 
arisen which make it necessary that I should speak 
now. That secret concerns your parentage. ” 

“Yes,” faintly. 

“You have for some time believed yourself to be 
the daughter of one whose maiden name was 
Armitage, and who married a son of Rudolph Gordon, 
long since dead. ” 

“Such was my firm belief, until recently.” 


234 


LOOKING BACKWARD. 


“You even inherited property left by this aunt of 
Josephine Annitage. 

“If it proves, as I now suspect, she shall have 
every penny of it. 

“I cannot understand how it could happen, but 
that has really nothing to do with what is now before 
us. You suspect — I know that you are not the child 
of this aunt of Josephine — that not a drop of the 
Armitage blood flows in your veins. 

She gives a cry, but says nothing, only sitting there 
with such a wistful look on her white face that Bob 
takes compassion upon her and hastens. 

“You are a Gordon, and yet you have no right to 
that name ; it has been given to you by your grand- 
father, who hated the name of your father.” 

“My father — who ” 

“Have patience. Your mother was a daughter of 
the strange, vindictive old squire — Ruth Gordon.” 

“Ruth — what a coincidence, ” she murmurs, but 
does not explain her meaning. 

“She married the man she loved, and was sent 
from home by her father. Several years passed by, 
and the squire, whose hatred for your father was 
intense, learning how happy they were, laid plans to 
separate them forever. He succeeded only too well.” 

“Oh! and I, in my blind trust, even loved that old 
man who ruined the lives of my parents.” 

She seems to feel this more than anything else, 
and shows something of anger, for Gypsy has a 
temper of her own, though she curbs it well. 

“My dear wife, another fact you must see from 


LOOKING BACKWARD. 


235 


what I have told you — your are a Gordon on your 
mother’s side. ” 

“Then my name? Oh, Bob, what a delicious state 
of uncertainty — see, I am trembling in suspense con- 
cerning it. Tell me — is it Smith?” 

“No — you will have to guess again,” smiling. 

“Then Jones.” 

“We will have to let those two great families pass 
by, since you do not belong to either.” 

“You provoking man ! lam unable to guess — at 
least tell me the first letter.” 

“Say A.” 

“Allen — Andrews — Aiken — Archer ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

“Estelle Gordon Archer. I saw that name once 
on some paper, by accident, and when I went to look 
for it again grandfather had hidden it away. It is 
not — so — very odd. Somehow, I like it.” 

Then she gives a sudden start. 

“Why, Bob, don’t you see, that’s the name of our 
friend, the Senator.” 

“You are quite right, my dear. Be calm. I have 
some very important intelligence to communicate 
now. ” 

“Yes, yes, Bob — support me, there’s a good man. 
I feel, don’t you know, as though I might faint. 
These things are very sudden and overpowering.” 

“Nonsense, my dear girl, be yourself — that means 
brave and true. What I have to say is right to the 
point. John Archer, whom I have long loved as 
though he were an elder brother, gentle, kind, and 
affectionate, John Archer is the man,” 


236 


CBAia HAS IT ALL ARRANGED. 


^‘My father?” 

“Without a doubt. I have just come from him — 
we have had a long talk and considered the matter 
on every side. Ivet me tell his story.” 

He goes on. 

By degrees all is known, and Gypsy learns that not 
only has she found a father, but that there is a 
chance of a mother being restored to her. 

“It is almost too*good. Bob — my cup is running 
over with gladness. Is he in the hotel? Oh, send for 
him, bring him to me, my poor, long-suffering 
father,” she says, with deep emotion. 


CHAPTER XXVHI. 

CRAIG HAS IT ALT ARRANGED. 

So they burst into the little parlor. Gypsy is there, 
steadying herself against a chair ; she and the Senator 
gaze upon each other with eager eyes, while practical 
Bob closes and locks the door. 

Contrary to all custom, under similar conditions, 
not a word is said. Senator John advances a step, and 
looks unutterable things. Bob’s wife, unable to 
longer control her natural feelings, springs forward 
and is caught in a parent’s arms. ‘ 

John Archer, holding his child thus, close to his 
heart, looks up as he says, reverently : 

“I thank Heaven for this great blessing. It is more 
than I deserve.” 


CRAIG HAS IT ALL ARRANGED. 


237 


The explanations are short, of course, for there is 
no time to spare, and at some future date they can 
enter more fully into them. 

While they are still talking, behold ! a knock, a 
gentle summons announces a visitor without. Bob 
opens the door. 

“Ah ! you, Joe. ’’ 

Hooker enters. 

“I have brought a friend with me,’’ he says. 

Bob frowns; having just got rid of one outsider, 
are they to have another tacked on them ? He hardly 
vouchsafes a glance at the party until he hears his 
wife give a silvery laugh. 

“How are you again, Mr. Craig?” she says. 

“What!” ejaculates Bob, and then he turns his at- 
tention toward the party in question, and sees a very 
sanctimonious looking person, with a droll twinkle 
in his eyes ; the lid of the left one having a slight 
droop to it — and it was this mark which betrayed 
him to the sharp eyes of Gypsy. 

Finding his identity no longer a secret, Craig 
laughs as he says: 

“No use trying to hide when a lady’s eyes are 
on one. Always found that to be the case — fight shy 
of ’em whenever I can.” 

“We have some news for you, my dear fellow. 
This stout gentleman whom you have met before, 
and whom you know as Senator John Archer ” 

“Let me tell it. Bob,” breaks in his wife. 

“What if I said I already knew?” grins Craig. 

“The deuce you say!” exclaims his friend. 

“Well, there’s enough resemblance, anyhow.” 


238 CRAIG HAS IT ALL ARRANGED. 

“Bob, I do believe he has guessed it,” from Gypsy, 
in some little excitement. 

“Resemblance — what do you mean, Craig?” 

“She looks like her pa — noticed it as soon as I saw 
’em — remember I asked you. Bob, if they were re- 
lated, and you said emphatically no. Hadn’t got on 
to things then, eh ? Know more now than ever be- 
fore in your life, I reckon.” 

The Senator laughs, and all join in, even Bob, on 
whom the joke falls. 

“Yes, I admit the corn this time, ladies and gen- 
tlemen. Craig is as shrewd as a Vidocq over in Paris, 
a man who never let a case puzzle him long. But, 
come, business demands our attention. I am sure 
Craig is here because the grand climax is near at 
hand when we will lift the vail that screens the end. 

He looks eagerly at the man who deals in mystery, 
and Craigs nods affirmatively. 

“This is my mission, gentlemen — ladies. First of 
all I called upon the sad lady who lived at the Al- 
hambra — was a city directory man this time, with 
book and bottle of ink, and a dozen questions. Made 
my way into her parlor, and occupied the best chair 
with an assurance none of Trow’s men could beat, 
I’m positive. 

“Found the old gentleman was in the next room 
reading — had a glimpse of him — asked who he was, 
and learned that he was a visitor, whose name was 
not necessary as a feature of the directory ; when she 
went in to ask him a question, used my ears, and 
heard her call him ‘father.’ ” 


CRAIG HAS IT ALL ARRANGED. 


239 


At this Senator John and Bob exchange a very 
significant glance, while Gypsy exclaims: 

“Oh! my mother !’’ as though the one wish of her 
heart might be to greet this long-lost relative. 

“I made other investigations — donH pay to go into 
particulars now — results what you want, and results 
we had sure enough. 

“Found that the colonel and that cunning old 
French lawyer had not given up the game, but were 
hanging around still, with some plot in their heads 
whereby they might accomplish their end. 

“Made up my mind I would learn just what that 
scheme was, and when I set to work on anything 
like this, trifles don’t stop me. 

“All is plain sailing now, and if we can only carry 
out the line I’ve laid down, before many hours slip 
by we’ll have it as we wish. 

“The old gentleman has one weakness — he is very 
fond of music. I should imagine that he must have 
had all manner of musical instruments at Gordon 
Manor when he was alive — I mean before his sup- 
posed death and interment,” with a look at Gypsy, 
who hastens to say : 

“What you remark is the exact truth. We had a 
piano, organ, harp, violin, flute, banjo, guitar, and 
numerous foreign instruments which grandfather 
picked up in Spain, Sweden, India, China and Persia 
— strange and uncouth some of them, but capable of 
making weird music. It was his one hobby — that col- 
lection, and though not a musician himself, he took 
great pleasure is hearing others play.” 

“Just so. I could hazard a guess that far myself. 


240 CRAIG HAS IT ALL ARRANGEl). 

At any rate, he has consented to come out of his 
shell for one night and attend the opera. 

“The opera!’’ exclaims Bob’s wife. 

“Yes — his daughter will accompany him. This I 
learned through overhearing a conversation between 
this Monsieur Merle and his employer, the unnatural 
son of the old man ; they never dreaming that 
strange ears took it all in. 

“If we can work things properly now, there will 
be a climax at the theatre, and the end must come as 
you suggest, in a dramatic way, in the very home of 
the drama. ” 

“Craig, tell us what to do. We are ready and 
anxious to obey orders. This affair had better be 
settled forever before another morning dawns. I am 
afraid the roses are leaving my wife’s cheeks through 
anxiety, and I cannot afford that.” 

“If you will promise me, one and all, to do just as 
I say, I will endeavor to bring about the crisis. 
Never mind my way — it is a secret as yet, but I can 
see how success is almost sure.” 

Bob looks around from face to face. 

“I believe I speak the mind of all when I say to 
you, my dear fellow, go ahead. We are all aiming in 
one direction, and that is to discover the truth with 
regard to this mysterious Mrs. Wade, and to secure 
Squire Gordon, so that he may not be injured by 
those who even plot against his life. Yes, take 
charge. General Craig, order us as you will, and, my 
word on it, we shall prove good soldiers.” 

The other smiles at his enthusiasm. 


CRAIG HAJ IT ALL ARRANGED. 241 

‘‘My first order is that everyone of you dress 
iinniediately for the opera. 

Various exclamations arise — he pays not the slight- 
est heed to them. 

“In twenty .minutes I will have a carriage at the 
door, ’ ’ and with this he bows to Mrs. Bob and leaves 
the room. 

“Twenty minutes, and one nearly gone already. It 
will hardly be possible for me to dress. I beg of you 
to depart immediately, gentlemen,” begs Gypsy, 
making a rush toward a great Saratoga that peeps 
into view from the next room. 

Finally the twenty minutes pass away, and Mrs. 
Bob discovers what great things can be accomplished 
in that space of time, when one is driven. 

“Mercy, Bob, just think of it! here I am all 
ready for the opera, and I declare it lacks five min- 
utes of the time yet. What will we do to make it 
pass. I believe I’ll try on that other new pair of 
gloves,” in despair. 

“Don’t, I beg of you,” laughs Bob, who looks 
very fine in his dress suit, with a diamond sparkling 
in his expansive shirt front; “even if we are a little 
early, let’s go below.” 

“If you think best, dear,” with a gentle sigh. 

He gazes upon her admiringly; she does look 
wondrously fair in her shimmering robes, with 
diamonds gleaming in her ears and at her throat ; as 
lovely a picture as ever thrilled the enraptured eyes of 
a young husband. 

When he makes as though he would take her in 
his arms she laughingly eludes him. 


2i2 SO HAS THAT SCHTJMEB MONSIEUR MERLE. 

“Not now, my dear boy — you may kiss me, but 
have respect for my dress. We are to be on review,” 
and Bob, governed by the circumstances, is compelled 
to take toll as she suggests, after which he leads this 
lovely creature below, as proud a man as ever trod 
the grand staircase of the Fifth Avenue. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

so HAS THAT SCHEMER MONSIEUR MEREE. 

Even if they are a few minutes before time, others 
are just as impatient, and they find in the lower part 
of the hotel, the ladies’ passage, where they have 
agreed to meet the rest, those who are also interested 
in the game — Joe, the Senator, and Craig himself. 

The last-named individual has managed in some 
peculiar manner to change his appearance. He has a 
wonderful knack of doing this, a slight-of-hand, as 
it were, which accomplishes much. No matter how 
it was done, he now appears to have thrown aside 
his ministerial look. One would say at a glance that 
he is a society gentleman, good looking and dressed 
for evening appearance. 

He smiles and waves his hand as Bob and his 
wife make their appearance. The Senator looks ex- 
ceedingly pleased at the lovely apparition, and as he 
bends to press a kiss upon Gypsy’s forehead, he mur- 
murs, a little brokenly : 


so HAS THAT SCHEMER MONSIEUR MERLE. 243 


^‘Ah! if you knew how much you look like my 
Ruth, your own mother, when I first met her at a 
ball in Richmond. It fairly staggers me,’’ which 
praise brings a blush to her cheek. It is sweet to 
have a father’s admiration. 

There are five — one too many for the hack. 

“We can crowd in,” says Bob, cheerily. 

“Oh! no, I have arranged that,” replies Craig, 
coolly. 

“In what way?” 

“You see, I have selected a vehicle that has room 
for another beside the driver. Thanking you for 
your kindness I shall be the outside passenger.” 

They arrive. 

Scores of carriages line both sides of the street, 
and still they come. Here are vehicles bearing the 
signet mark of New York’s first families; with some 
a coat of arms, with others the plain or fancy 
monogram. Doors are slamming, horses prancing, 
vehicles moving. It is a scene that presents much life, 
and which it is strange no artist has drawn upon for 
a masterpiece. 

In turn, our friends reach the stone, and are assisted 
to alight. Bob makes mental note of the driver’s 
number, and then, with his wife, follows the others 
into the opera house. 

Thus they reach the scene where the last act of 
the drama is to be played. It seems almost like the 
irony of fate that this should be under a roof conse- 
crated to mimic tragedy and comedy, which nightly 
witnesses imaginary scenes such as life all around 
teems with, scenes that clever playwrights and com- 


244 SO HAS THAT SCHEMER MONSIEUR MERLE. 


posers of opera have woven into the woof of their 
fabric to give it the natural tone which the taste of 
the day demands. 

Craig knows what he is about. 

He secures seats, and good ones, too — indeed, it 
looks as though lie must be in league with the ticket 
seller, or else bought the seats hours before, for there 
is apparently hardly another vacant one in the house 
when they enter, and scores of persons who look 
perfectly able to purchase seats, if any are to be had, 
are standing up. 

No sooner is Gypsy seated than she looks around, 
woman-like. The scene upon the stage does not draw 
her attention, and under the peculiar circumstances 
of the case, this is not much to be wondered at. 

All are strangers around her ; she looks from face to 
face ; hundreds thus pass in review, but not one that 
she knows. Ah ! a mistake. 

“There is Uncle Cornelius — yes, and at his side 
that miserable little French lawyer who has done his 
best to win the game from me,” she whispers in 
Bob’s ear. 

Nearly every one’s gaze is focused upon the stage 
at just this moment, for a queen of song had made 
her debut for the evening, and these lovers of melody, 
as it comes from a woman’s throat, the sweetest 
melody in all the wide world, are spellbound by her 
magic voice, so that few even notice the late little 
company that, with rather less than the usual flutter, 
settle into their seats. 

“I noticed them,” says Bob, “but fail to see 
anything of the others.” 


so HAS THAT SCHEMER MONSIEUR MERLE. 245 

At this moment Craig, who is just behind them, 
leans forward so that his head is close to theirs, and 
they hear him whisper: 

“Have you found them?” 

“Only the colonel and that Frenchman,” replies 
Gypsy, behind her fan. 

“They have been here longer than ourselves, and 
they have not noticed our coming.” 

“I believe that is true, as they have not once 
looked this way. ” It is Bob who speaks this time, 
careful to modulate his voice so he may not annoy 
those who are close by. 

“Follow their eyes, and you may discover what 
you seek. ” 

Bob comprehends — the advice is good, and worthy 
of the shrewd man who gives it, as Monsieur Merle, 
the little lawyer who loves his fancy scarfs and 
dashing velvet vests, is, of course, deeply interested 
in watching the parties they seek. 

At a glance Bob is able to discover that the two 
men have their attention pretty well taken up in a 
certain quarter, vouchsafing only an occasional look 
into the direction of the stage. 

This gives him his cue, but another, with sharper 
eyes than his own, urged on by the eagerness of a 
child in search of its mother, is ahead of him. 

“I see them,” her lips utter, “in the box.” 

Bob is already gazing in that direction, and now 
sees for himself. Yes, there is an old gentleman — he 
sits a little back as though shunning the gaze of the 
thousands present. So far as Bob is able to see, he 
may be Squire Gordon, the strange, vindictive old 


246 SO HAS THAT SCHEMER MONSIEUR MERLE. 

man whose iron will has caused much suffering in 
the world ; who has been apparently dead, was 
buried, and comes again upon the scene of life to 
confound his enemies and bring about new compli- 
cations. 

One glance only Bob gives him ; then he turns his 
eyes upon the other occupant of the box. She sits 
there in elegant evening attire, diamonds flash in the 
many lights. She looks beautiful, yet Bob, even with 
the naked e}e, can see a sad expression upon her face. 

Gypsy has the glasses, and she is devouring the 
lady with the gray hair in the box — the lady whom 
she has reason to suppose will prove to be her own 
mother. 

Bob hears a deep sigh beside him. 

“Take the glasses,’’ she whispers. 

He looks at her and sees she is deathly pale. 

“You are ill !” 

“No, no, please don’t notice me. I am overcome 
with emotion, that is all, and will soon be myself,” 
is the quick reply she makes. 

He takes the glasses and gets a focus, being deeply 
interested himself in the lady who is in the company 
of Squite Gordon. 

When his glance falls upon her through the me- 
dium of the magic glasses. Bob no longer wonders 
why his wife uttered that sigh as she handed the 
gold-mounted opera glasses over to him, or why she 
looks so pale. 

The lady with the gray hair, whose beauty has 
survived these years and afflictions, is a Gordon all 


so HAS THAT SCHEMER MONSIEUR MERLE. 247 

over, and Bob can instantly see how much his wife 
resembles her. 

This makes their belief the stronger — ^she must be 
the squire's daughter, and as he only had one child 
besides Cornelius living at the time of the trouble 
what other construction can be placed on it? 

Bob feels a hand fall upon his other arm, a hand 
that seems to quiver with emotion. The Senator sits 
next to him, so it must be his clutch. 

“My dear boy, I have had a shock ; I look upon 
my wife whom for more than fifteen years I have 
believed to be dead.’’ 

Bob pays not the slightest attention to what is 
happening on the stage ; such mimic affairs pale into 
insignificance beside the drama in real life that is 
taking place beside him. 

By this time the curtain falls, and over the great 
house a rustling sound succeeds the long silence ; 
people converse, fans wave, and quite a number leave 
their seats to visit round. 

Bob’s wife leans forward, and fastens her eyes on 
the Senator. 

“Father, tell me is it true?” she asks. 

He looks into her sweet eyes, and with a solemnity 
in his voice, replies : 

“My child, you behold your mother!” 


4 


248 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


CHAPTER XXX. 

WHICH WILL WIN? 

Gypsy utters no sound, but lier hand mechanically 
reaches again for the glasses. It is a momentous 
period of her life, when for the first time since she 
was a child she gazes upon the face of her mother. 

Bob, watching the lady in the box, sees her sweep 
her glance around the house, as though looking for a 
familiar face. What will happen when she sees 
Gypsy? Will that mother-heart be pierced by some 
intuitive feeling? Will she show deep emotion? 

The seconds pass. Bob will soon know. Now the 
lady focuses her glass upon them. Bob’s eyes are 
keen, and he is sure she starts visibly. At any rate, 
she holds it upon them long and earnestly. Does 
Gypsy feel the power of that gaze? She smiles as Bob 
believes no other human being can smile ; it is next 
to angelic. 

The lady in the box lowers her glass. She is 
almost overcome by some emotion. They see her 
turn toward her elderly companion as though to call 
his attention to the face that has caused her such 
deep emotion. Will Squire Gordon recognize his 
granddaughter? Unless age and his recent trials have 
dimmed his sight and faculties, he is very apt to do 
so. Bob is alarmed. 

“Eook the other way, my dear; let him see only 
the side view of your face,” he whispers, and Gypsy 
obeys without asking why. 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


249 


‘‘She changes her mind and will not tell him. See, 
already he glances in another quarter, ” says the quiet 
voice behind them. 

“Why is this so?” 

“In that flash of time a suspicion came into ex- 
istence — a sudden inspiration. She has no longer the 
utmost faith in her father. She even begins to 
wonder whether he has not deceived her. 

“So she has believed all along and been contented 
to live, first abroad and then here in New York, as 
you have seen. Never has she seen her childhood 
home since the night she left it to be married.” 

“What now, Craig?” 

“The next time she looks the Senator must have 
his face turned toward her. If he has not changed 
beyond all recognition we may see how arrow num- 
ber two wings its flight.” 

So Senator John, trembling with eagerness, yet 
showing a wonderful self-control, manages to let the 
light fall full upon his face as he looks in the 
direction of the box. 

Once more the lady uses her glasses. It is as 
though some subtle attraction draws her eyes in their 
direction. 

“Lower your head, dear, so she may not see you 
and turn her attention to the rest. There, it is done. ” 

As Bob speaks he sees the lady fall back in her 
chair as if about to swoon. The old gentleman bends 
over her, chafing her hands, and with a supreme effort, 
she rallies. 

It is evident that only a severe shock would thus 
act upon her; the lapse of time has not made such a 


250 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


change in John, but that eyes which have once loved 
him can recognize features so well known years gone 
by. 

‘‘Enough,” says the man behind, grimly, “the 
second blow has fallen. Now for a rise in the 
thermometer — it will get warmer.” 

He chuckles while saying it, as though this sort 
of business is very pleasant to him, and Bob, in- 
wardly chafing over the delay, gives no outward 
indication of the fact. 

Again he hears : 

“You have forgotten something. Bob.” 

“Eh?” 

“These two men — they are here with a deep mo- 
tive in view. Colonel Cornelius has become des- 
perate. He believes his father carries those papers 
on his person, and he has staked everything on this 
last deal. To-night they must fall into his hands or 
he sails on the steamer Majestic on the morrow.” 

“Then make up your mind he will be across the 
big pond a week from to-night,” says Bob, in such a 
determined voice that the other laughs. 

“Good for you, my dear boy — admire such ginger 
and snap always. As I said before, he has arranged 
everything, and expects it to work with clock-like 
regularity, not taking into account the fact that such 
fellows as ourselves are in the game and wide awake. 

“Notice them, and you will quickly discover that 
they are evidently in communication with some other 
party. It bothered me at first to discover who this 
was, but I found it out at last. She — -^” 

“Ah! it’s a woman, then?” 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


251 


‘‘Yes; cast your left optic up yonder under the 
first gallery — dress circle or whatever you call it. 
Look beside that pillar — it half screens her. Now 
she bends forward — what do you see?” 

“Josephine. ” 

“I thought so. Well, she’s in it for keeps. She 
hates your wife, and intends doing everything in her 
power to bring ruin upon her. Hence this compact 
with the plotters. You will receive a surprise before 
the bells of New York toll the midnight hour — sur- 
prise at the boldness with which these allies play 
their game — perhaps a small amount of the same for 
the manner in which I bring them to book, for the 
snare is set, the trap baited, and when the time comes 
to pull the string some one is going to be caught.” 

All of which is interesting to Bob, because one 
who holds his heart is so deeply involved in the 
outcome of the game. 

“They grow restless as the time draws nearer — 
their signals are exchanged more rapidly. I believe 
the woman has been watching us — trust her sharp 
eyes for discovering our presence— and is endeavor- 
ing to transmit her knowledge to the men, who have 
been so busily engaged watching that box as to find 
no time for a sweeping survey of the house, and 
hence have failed to see us.” 

“You are right — they look this way and show some 
signs of excitement.” 

“I see you have discovered my way of watching 
them without causing alarm — that large mirror on 
the wall does the business. They have failed to count 
on our presence, but don’t imagine fior a moment 


252 


TVHICH WILL WIN? 


that such a fact will change them one iota in their 
intentions. As I said before, everything depends on 
their success now, and they have risked all on this 
die.’’ 

The curtain rolls up and again eager eyes are fast- 
ened upon the great stage. Music fills the house, 
and appeals to the senses of those who love sweet 
harmony. 

Watching the box Bob sees that the lady has 
changed her position, and is now half concealed 
from their gaze, though she steals a look in their 
direction once in a while. 

Perhaps she would leave, only that the old man is 
thoroughly infatuated with the music, his one weak 
point, and sits there wrapped in it, his eyes glued on 
the stage, caring nothing for the audience while his 
soul responds to the divine harmony. 

And Bob’s wife — what torture those minutes are to 
her ! waiting for the time to come when the truth 
will be made known — when the handwriting on the 
wall must declare whether she is to have a mother 
or not. 

Craig is not idle, though he leaves Bob alone to 
look after his wife — Bob, who has for almost the first 
time in his life experienced a feeling akin to fear, 
for he sympathizes with Gypsy to such an extent that 
he enters into her emotions. 

Bending forward Craig whispers in the ear of the 
Senator : 

“John Archer, have you complete control of your 
faculties — do you believe you could withstand some- 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


253 


thing of a shock without betraying the fact to those 
around?’’ is what he asks. 

“Generally, I am cool and collected,’’ replies the 
other, quite in the dark as to what is about to be 
sprung on him. 

“Are you at this present moment?” 

The Senator draws in a long breath, and seems to 
shake himself together. 

“I am ready. ” 

His manner is that of the circus athlete settling 
himself firmly upon the ground preparatory to allow- 
ing half a dozen men to form a pyramid, of which he 
shall be the base. 

Craig goes on. > 

“You have been so engrossed with what is in yon- 
der box, my dear sir, that I imagine you have paid 
little or no attention to 5'our neighbors. Am I right?” 

“Haven’t looked around since the start.” 

“Then suppose you do so, and see the little sur- 
prise I have prepared, assisted by one of the queerest 
freaks of fortune. There is present one who was 
once your best friend, but whom circumstances 
caused you to hate as a serpent who stung you, a 
wolf that crept into your family to destroy its hap- 
piness. He is here to meet you — here to prove, at 
your leisure, how grossly you wronged him, here to 
do his part in unraveling the deep mystery surround - 
ing the past. I have warned you — keep cool and turn 
to your left. ” 

Senator John does so. 

In spite of his self-control he shivers as his eyes 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


'irA 

meet a pair that thrill him. The gentleman seated 
there, a grave looking man, smiles. 

Again the curtain descends, after a very brief act. 
When it rises once more it will be upon the last act 
of the mimic play. 

This is fortunate, as it gives those who are so 
deeply interested a chance to talk. 

“John,” says the serious gentleman on his left, 
“you wronged me years ago. I have waited for the 
time to come when I could defend myself. It is here, 
and I am prepared with proofs to establish my entire 
innocence — to show you that I did not even see your 
wife at the time in question. Do you feel as bitter as 
ever, John?” 

“Time has healed my wounds to some extent, 
Henry, and even if I believed you guilty I would for- 
give. But, I rejoice to hear you declare your innO' 
cence — doubly rejoice, because it clears the shadow 
from name. ” 

John is sincere ; he proves it by holding out his 
hand and clasping that of the old friend, whom he 
once believed had ruined his home. 

“You never discovered the truth, then?” asks the 
other. 

“Never.” 

“I learned later on that the man with whom Ruth 
went aboard the steamer was her own brother.” 

“What! Colonel Cornelius had a hand in the affair, 
too? I might have suspected it, since he was his 
father’s willing tool at the time, and wished for noth- 
ing better than a chance to injure his sister and those 
she loved. I rejoice in this because it clears Ruth’s 


WHICH WILL WIN? 


name. Falling into tlie pit he dug I have grievously 
wronged her. I shall not spare myself one iota ; I 
shall not forget to lay it at his door. First came the 
picnic, her supposed death, and then my belief in her 
flight to Europe.” 

“Do you know where to find her, John? is she 
alive? I have not seen or heard of her since the night 
we had supper together in your house?” 

“Ah! Henry, look toward the box over yonder — 
that is Squire Gordon you see.” 

“That old gentleman? I would not have known 
him, and yet I suppose at closer range he would show 
the Gordon features. I see some one else. ” 

“Take these glasses.” 

“It is a lady — her face — zounds, John, I find 
myself gazing on your wife.” 

“Yes, and this lady next to me is the child you 
remember — little Estelle.” 

“Can it be possible — and the gentleman, John?” 

“Her husband, Robert Pemberton, of this city — a 
bright, clever fellow who worships his wife.” 

“If that were a charm against evil you had not 
supped with adversity, but, alas! there are other 
forces that play in this world, forces of darkness, 
human passions. 

“Yes, yes. Henry, the only mistake I made, the 
great blunder of my life, was a lack of perfect con- 
fidence and trust in Ruth. Had I followed her I must 
have learned the truth and defeated their plans 
As it was I buried myself in obscurity, feeling that 
my life was a curse. Then came the news of their 
death, and I tried to forget, to forgive.” 


256 MONSIEUR SMILES-BUT— 

“I knew Craig — he came to me and told me a 
little, asking my presence here. You see I have come 
to witness your final triumph over the forces that 
conspired against you.” 

“Thanks — a thousand thanks.” 

The curtain rises, the interval has been brief, and 
the last act of the comedy in opera begins ; so, too, 
the time for the closing scene in the other drama 
draws near. 

Craig leans forward — his mouth is close to the ear 
of Bob Pemberton as he says : 

“Ah! Monsieur Merle and the doughty colonel 
have slipped out. The time has arrived for the real 
tragedy to open. Come, give the signal ; now is our 
chance during this break ; we leave our seats — we 
are gone . ' * 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

NOW MONSIEUR SMILES — BUT — 

Bob speaks to his wife, and they all rise. Fortu- 
nately no one blocks their way to the aisle, which is to 
be laid at the door of good luck or else the general- 
ship of Craig. 

Bob gives one backward glance in the direction of 
the box. What he sees is a lady standing erect and 
nervously donning her wraps, while an old gentle- 
man expostulates in vain against this unseemly de- 
parture. This time it is the daughter’s will that has 


NOW MONSIEUR SMILES -BUT- 


257 


full sway ; she has awakened from a long lethargy ; 
the mother instinct in her heart recognizes the fact 
that it is essential to her future happiness that she 
should overtake the party leaving the body of the 
house, and learn who it is accompanies the gentle- 
man she has recognized, in spite of the changes years 
have wrought, as her husband, so fondly, madly loved 
in days gone by, so sadly mourned as one in the 
grave. 

The meeting will occur in the lobby ; perhaps it 
may not come about exactly as any one of the charac- 
ters involved plans, for when many minds evolve a 
scheme, it is apt to be something on the order of what 
we call to-day a conglomeration. 

Tying in wait there are the human vampires 
known as Monsieur Merle and Colonel Cornelius Gor- 
don. They have not failed to observe the movement 
in the box, as they have a good opportunity for ob- 
servation, although, of course, they fail to notice the 
cause for the sudden exodus. It suits them to have 
the closing scene of their drama occur before the 
throng pushes through the doors, eager to gain the 
outside air, like the torrent that flows through a 
broken dam. 

Craig checks his party near the doors, to give the 
squire and his vailed companion, hurrying along the 
side aisle, a chance to reach the entrance first. 

This they do, not noticing our friends in the crowd. 
The lady almost drags her aged companion along— 
the spirit of the Gordons has perhaps lain dormant 
for years, but something has occurred to-night to 
arouse it. 


258 NOW MONSIEUR SMILE8-BUT- 

In the vestibule she looks around eagerly, 
breathlessly. 

They are not in sight. A number of men meet her 
gaze, but she pays no heed to them, since her eyes 
fail to discover the particular forms she seeks. 

“Oh! where are they— why does fate tantalize me 
so cruelly. I am sure there is more than fancy in it 
— more than the imagination of a distracted brain. 
Father, don’t you see them anywhere?” 

“Who, child?” the old man asks, half awed by this 
singular state on her part. 

“Those two so like my husband — my child.” 

“The woman is mad,” he mutters, for, poor old 
fool, his eyes have never once been turned for more 
than five seconds at a time upon the audience, and he 
does not dream of what the auditorium contained for 
himself and his child. 

She turns from him with a cry of pain ; can no 
one answer her eager question ; several men are advanc- 
ing, and to them she appeals. 

“Did you see a party leave here a few minutes 
ago; several gentlemen and a lady, a beautiful little 
woman? I have missed them and desire to overtake 
them very much. Which way did they go?” she 
pants, laying a hand on the gentleman’s arm, so great 
is her excitement. 

To her astonishment, he clasps that in his, clasps it 
as though he had a right. She gives a cry, a 
gurgling cry of indignation, of alarm. 

“Unhand me, sir! How dare you?” she says, 
struggling to release herself. 

“Wretch, what does this mean?” snaps the old 


NOW MONSIEUR SMILES BUT— 259 

squire, as he advances threateningly, with his heavy 
cane upraised. 

The man laughs. What a sneer there is in the 
sound as it falls from his lips. 

“Ruth, don’t you know me?” 

She looks into his face at these words, looks and 
seems to shiver, as though a cold Siberian blast had 
swept across her heart, but lately all aglow with the 
enthusiasm of aroused hopes that have lain dormant 
for years. 

“Cornelius, is it you?” falls from her lips. 

“What!” feebly utters the old man, falling back 
aghast from that face, with its sardonic smile, allow- 
ing his threatening cane to fall without even attempt- 
ing to use it upon the other, for this evil son has 
been the thorn in his flesh for years, and his presence 
here and now gives Squire Gordon sudden cause for 
alarm. 

“Yes, the same old chestnut — a bad penny is sure 
to turn up. If I had been good I’d have kicked the 
bucket long ago. But I am not here to preach a 
sermon — only to carry out a very disagreeable duty.” 

“Duty!” echoes his sister, who intuitively knows 
there is something back of it all. 

“Duty!” repeats the old man, looking from his 
reprobate son to those near him, and somehow the 
iron will of the past seems to have gone to pieces, for 
he falls to trembling as with the ague. 

“Yes, my solemn, disagreeable duty. It goes 
against my grain to have to do it, but stern necessity 
knows no law. He is my father still, and, for one, I 
don’t intend the public shall be treated to a laughing 


260 


NOW MONSIEUR SMILES -BUT— 


Spectacle — a Gordon must not be allowed to drag the 
name in the dust. When he is no longer in a con- 
dition to take care of himself he must be looked after. ” 
“Sir, what do you mean?” splutters the squire, 
some of his old-time fire coming back. 

“That you have lost your reason, both of you — 
that you must be detained until an examination is 
made. I hold the judge’s order. Doctor, do your 
duty, ” waving his hand to the sleek -looking indi- 
vidual who stands near, and whose appearance, paper 
in hand, is about on a par with the condemned about 
to make a neat little speech before stepping off. 

“I hold in my hand an order from Judge Bassett 
authorizing me to secure the person of Squire 

Rudolph Gordon, or one claiming to be such ” 

“And his daughter, Ruth,” prompts the colonel. 
“Of course, and his daughter Ruth, and hold him, 
or them, safely in my delightful retreat beyond the 
Harlem — a place whose satisfied inmates never yet 
made a complaint until the court can inquire into 
their mental condition, and satisfy itself regarding 
their sacred right to liberty.” 

The old man looks at the speaker with the same 
black brow he was wont, in years gone by, to terrify 
his slaves, and all who came in contact with him. 

“Do I understand you rightly ; you dare to call me 
a lunatic, and threaten to put me in a mad-house; 
me. Squire Rudolph Gordon, of Virginia? Such 
brazen impudence! It -is a piece of devilish work 
worthy of my talented son. But you will find it one 
thing to say and another to execute. This is the 
nineteenth century, and we are in modern New York. 


NOW MONSIEUR SMILES BUT- 


261 


Carr)^ me off to a mad-house! Bah ! I laugh at you, 
I defy you, rascals, plotters, thieves!’’ 

“Bravo!” says Bob, in a low tone, for, unseen by 
the actors in this little domestic affair, they have 
come into the vestibule and shut the sound of music 
beyond the door. 

“That grandsire of yours is at least a worthy 
specimen of Virginia chivalry, and knows not fear. I 
admire him for that, at least. See him stand there 
waving his heavy cane around his head, reckless as 
to whether it strikes friend or foe. Do you know he 
makes me think of Gladstone! He has much the same 
face, and that indomitable will that has carried him 
over crises where weaker men would have yielded 
up the ghost. ” 

While Bob is talking Squire Gordon holds his 
enemies at bay with his cane. They do not seem to 
relish a personal contact with such a cleverly wielded 
cudgel. Some wait for him to tire out, others move 
to the rear, while the worthy doctor attracts his 
attention — an old game which he has probably 
practiced on many an occasion. 

“But, my dear sir, we do not deserve such epithets 
as those. We are law-abiding citizens, and I am act- 
ing under orders from a well-known judge. No police 
officer would dare interfere with me. On the con- 
trary, if such guardians of the peace were to appear 
here at this moment, and I showed him the document 
I carry, it would be his bounden duty to assist me to 
the utmost. Hence, under these circumstances, you 
will see the folly of resistance and accompany us 
peacefully/^ 


262 


NOW MONSIEUR SMILES— BUT— 


‘‘ini see you in a warmer country than this first,” 
roars the undaunted old Virginian, though his cane 
no longer waves with the velocity it did at first. At 
seventy-five one’s muscles will wane in power, even 
though the enthusiasm may still remain. 

“My quarters are very comfortable.” 

“Gammon, sir.” 

“We have an easy riding coach,” advancing a 
step. 

“Keep back !” and the cane cuts the air within 
an inch of his head, causing him to dodge. 

“But, my dear sir, you must not defy the law. 
NoWj boys, take the old fool,” and as the others 
suddenly close in, Squire Gordon is a prisoner. 

Panting, he surveys them, undaunted still, and were 
he twenty years younger they would have repented 
their rashness in assailing him. Ruth wrings her 
hands in anguish, and appeals to those who witness 
the scene, for help; but they have seen the document 
the doctor holds, and dare not interfere. She cries in 
deep distress : 

“Will no one put out a hand to save him?” 

“Now’s your chance,” whispers Craig, chuckling. 

“Madame, your appeal is not in vain. Count on me. 
Who am I? Your daughter’s husband.” She utters 
a low shriek and clasps Gypsy in her arms. “Re- 
spected mother-in-law, I salute you — command me, ” 


HE LAUGHS LOUDEST WHO LAUGHS LAST.^* 263 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

“hB BAUGHS LOUDEST WHO LAUGHS LAST!’’ 

At this sudden interruption Monsieur Merle and 
his employer look daggers, but they are like desper- 
ate fighters, driven into the last ditch ; they will not 
give up so long as the faintest hope remains. They 
have secured the squire. 

“Away with him, doctor!” cries the colonel, with 
a dramatic wave of his hand. 

The physician turns to his men. 

“To the carriage with him. ” 

“No, you don’t.” 

This last comes from Bob, who springs forward to 
bar the passage of the men with their prisoner. It 
does not matter to him that his single arm is opposed 
to half a dozen, not counting the leaders. His heart 
urges him to the deed, his love lor Gypsy, and his 
American liking for fair play. 

Still clasped in her mother’s arms, Mrs. Bob sees 
the action of her husband, and appreciates the pluck 
he shows. She even claps her little hand^ vigorously 
and cries: 

“Good, Bob; don’t let them take him away to a 
mad-house. I’m proud of you. Bob, indeed I am.” 

The spectators say nothing, but look on, intensely 
pleased. It is as if the drama were transferred from 
the opera house to the vestibule, ^nd it costs them 
nothing, 


•264 LA UGHS LOUDEST WHO LA UGHS LAST. 

Some of them feel like cheering the words of 
Bob’s wife ; it is as if two dogs were engaged in a 
fight, and the owner of the smaller one urged him on 
against superior powers. 

But Pemberton, although ready and willing to 
shoulder the burden alone, and able to prove a host 
in himself, is not to stand there long, a single hand 
against many. 

Senator John rushes to his side. Think of it, John 
Archer, whose life has been ruined through the evil 
machinations of this old man now runs to his defense ! 
He might not have been equal to such a thing a few 
days before, but the blessings that have come to 
him, the restoration of wife and daughter soften his 
heart, so that hatred and malice can find no lodging 
there. 

He ranges himself alongside Bob, and his stout 
figure gives promise of proving a rock upon which 
some unfortunate will split. 

“I’m with you, my dear boy. They’ll find it a 
difficult thing to drag him away without coming in 
contact with trouble. All hands on deck to repel 
boarders!” sings out the veteran pilgrim, as he plants 
himself in line. 

“Count on me!” exclaims another, ranging up 
alongside the others. Of course it is Joe Hooker, and 
he extends the line, so that in order to rush through, 
the captors of the squire will have to crush the snags 
in front of them. 

This leaves only Craig, and as yet he does not ad- 
vance a step. It is not fear that holds him in check, 
for the man does not know it. He has another mo- 


LAUGHS LOUDEST WHO LAUGHS LASTW 265 

live, and desires to see the play reach its legitimate 
dramatic conclusion. 

Although not expecting resistance, the doctor has 
brought force enough with him to meet any ordinary 
trouble. They are some seven to three, which ought 
to be enough. 

“Gentlemen, I regret this difficulty as much as you 
do, but necessity compels me to perform a disagreeable 
duty. I am backed by the law, and have force 
enough to accomplish my ends. For the last time*, I 
ask you to step aside, and allow my men to peaceably 
perform their duty. ” 

“We refuse to move — do your worst!” 

The doctor raises his hand, and is just about to 
give the order for an advance ; a conflict seems im- 
minent, which may prove to be a disgraceful street 
brawl, when something occurs which Craig has fore- 
seen for the last minute, and which accounts for his 
not taking part in the game. 

“What’s all this mean?” says a gruff voice, and a 
bluecoat bustles up, followed by his partner. 

“These fellows are attempting to drag an old gen- 
tleman to a mad-house. We ask your assistance, 
officer,” says Bob. 

“On our side, we demand your aid to clear the way 
for us to do our duty. Officer, read this document and 
then refuse at your peril,” and the doctor thrusts a 
paper into the hand of the foremost policeman. 

He looks at it. 

“Well, what do you make of it, officer?” demands 
the doctor, with something of exultation in his voice, 
for he believes he has the tide in his favor, 


266 LAUGHS LOUDEST WHO LAUGHS LAST.*' 

“No mistake about it; this here is a court order 
from Judge Bassett, authorizing Doctor Bailey to 
secure the person of Squire Gordon, of Gordonville, 
Virginia, and to hold him until the court can inquire 
into his sanity. ’’ 

“Very good. Gentlemen, you hear?” 

Bob and his comrades look depressed, but they do 
not yet give way ; as a last resort they may appeal to 
the officers to take the whole party to the station, 
where the squire may be searched and his valuable 
papers locked up. 

“Only one question remains,” says the officer who 
has so ably taken charge of the matter. 

“What is that?” demands the physician. 

“The identity of the party. Is this Squire Gordon ?” 

“No one will attempt to deny that.” 

“Then I reckon we’re bound to help you in 
discharging the order of the court.” 

“You hear, gentlemen?” triumphantly. 

“Clear the way in front,” flourishing his long 
night stick menacingly. “I suppose you have a 
carriage, doctor?” 

“Yes; right in front of the entrance, officer.” 

’“Then take your prisoner to it. We’ll keep back 
any outsiders, I reckon. Bill, fall in on the left. ” 

Things look dubious for Bob and his party, and 
they are almost ready to despair. At this moment 
there is an acquisition to their ranks. Craig has seen 
fit to step forward. 

“Officer Hummel, I commend you for your strict 
obedience to orders. Look at that paper again ; what 
was the hour of its being issued?’^ 


LAUGHS LOUDEST WHO LAUGHS LAST:^ 2G7 

‘‘Eleven o’clock, sir.” 

“Well, cast your eye over this document, and note 
its contents, handing him a paper, and flashing a 
sneering glance at the conspirators, who immediately 
show signs of confusion, and look at each other with 
alarm written on their faces. 

“It revokes the order given for the arrest of one 
Squire Gordon, and makes it null,” says the intel- 
ligent officer. 

“And the hour?” 

“Two p. M. of this day.” 

Monsieur Merle shrugs his shoulders in a way 
that plainly signifies he is done with the game; he 
means to wash his hands of it. As for Colonel 
Cornelius, he utters a groan; it is so exasperating 
to come so near and yet fail. 

“With this later order of the court in your hands, 
officer, what is your duty?” asks Craig. 

“To release the prisoner,” promptly. 

Craig turns to the doctor, and lifting the lapel of 
his coat, shows his badge of authority. 

“Order your dogs of war off, doctor, or, by the 
powers! I’ll land every mother’s son of you in the 
Tombs.” 

The doctor, having seen a great light, wilts. 

“It is done, sir. Mistakes will happen, you know, 
even in the best regulated families, and I realize that 
I have made one here. Accept my apologies. Men, 
we will take our departure.” 

He bows politely to Ruth and her daughter, still 
clasped in one another’s arms, and leaves the great 
vestibule of the music hall. 


2'’8 “ifE LA UGHS LOUDEST WHO LA UGHS LAST” I 

No one attempts to detain them, for, somehow, his 
presence seems to cast a chill upon our friends ; per- 
haps it is because it is associated with the dark 
secrets of a mad-house. 

Bob whirls upon the colonel, who has been so com- 
pletely upset by this sudden turn of affairs that he 
does not even think of flight. He shrinks visibly 
before the glance Pemberton gives him. 

“Well, what do you think we would be justified in 
doing with you, sir?” Bob thunders. 

Monsieur Merle is on hand, and no one ever knew 
him to be abashed. He has seen a chance for a great 
fee slip from between his fingers, but he has devoted 
himself to the services of the Virginian, he does not 
desert him now. 

“Allow me to say a word, my dear young gentle- 
man, and tell you what you will do if you are as wise 
as I take you to be. You will give your wife’s uncle 
a thousand dollars, and send him from the country 
to-morrow, with the distinct understanding that if he 
ever shows himself on this side of the Atlantic again 
you will proceed against him. ” 

The assurance of this demand rather takes Bob’s 
breath away. 

“That is refreshing, to say the least, and yet, by 
Jove! we might do worse. What do you say, father- 
in-law — Gypsy? It will save us the publicity of a 
trial.” 

“I am satisfied, but if he gives more trouble I will 
take him in hand myself. You remember I can use a 
sword. Colonel Cornelius,” sa^s Senator John, 
earnestly. 


HE LAUGHS LOUDEST Wg^LA UGHS LAST” 269 

Of course, Ruth and her daughter acquiesce, and 
the colonel heaves a sigh of relief, for it has been a 
close shave, and at one time he even imagined he 
could hear the clang of a jail door near by. 

“Call at the hotel and see me in the morning, both 
of you, and we will fix this matter. I don’t believe 
in compromising a felony, but to spare these ladies 
publicity I refrain from giving you the whipping you 
deserve. Get out of our sight, both. ” 

So the spectators are cheated out of another scene 
at the close of the little drama, and our friends, 
entering their carriages, drive to the Fifth Avenue. 

Here, in Bob’s private parlor, explanations are 
given. Squire Gordon breaks down, and sobs like a 
child, confessing his wrong-doing; his iron will gives 
way, and from that hour when he sees his daughter 
and her husband united, with their child also clasped 
in their arms, he never emerges from the cloud, but 
grows more feeble and childish every day, until, 
finally, he is laid at rest in the tomb whose terrible 
barriers he once burst. 

Every doubt, every cause for sorrow is swept away 
when just before the holidays Bob and his wife, to- 
gether with Senator John and Ruth bid Joe and Craig 
farewell, and steam from New York Harbor, bound 
for the sunny skies of Italy. It is peace at last. 

( the : end .) 



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between New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, 
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ceded to be the BEST CONSTRUCTED and 
MOST FINELY EQUIPPED RAILROAD in 
the country. 

THE OLD RELIABLE ROUTE 

to all points in Interior Pennsylvania — Reading, 
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The Double Track Line between Philadelphia 
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705 ^ 

I* A. SWEIGABD, General Superintendent. 

0. Q. HANCOCK, General Passenger Agent. 


















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